


And the Sunlight Clasps the Earth

by lysachan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/F, Idiots in Love, Panic Attacks, Regina is an enigma Emma is trying to crack, bookshop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-11 20:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20552480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysachan/pseuds/lysachan
Summary: Emma Swan loves books. One day, she stumbles upon a charming bookstore, not knowing that stepping inside will change her life forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been over five years in the making, and I can't believe it's finally ready enough to be posted. Kayryn, the awesome fic idea creator that she is, came up with the basic idea years ago (THANK YOU!), and I happily ran away with it. The title of the fic is from a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley.
> 
> [The amazing cover art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551136) by kayryn.

The door made a small creaking sound when Emma pushed it open and stepped, almost hesitantly, into the small book shop. The smell of printed paper and, well, books filled her nose, and she instantly felt comforted by the familiarity of it. A bell above the door jingled, alerting an elderly man behind the counter of the new customer.

"Good morning," the man greeted and smiled kindly.

"Morning." Emma politely returned the smile, turning her eyes to the dozens after dozens of shelves filled with books.

It was just what Emma had expected the shop to look like inside when she’d accidentally spotted it, driving past a few days earlier. _Storybrooke_, the name of the shop had sat above the door and peaked her interest. The shop oozed old-time charm, with big Persian mats covering the floors, the sturdy bookshelves rising all the way to the ceiling and blocking most of the natural light coming from the outside. It reminded her of Shakespeare and Company, a small bookshop in Paris which she’d never been to herself, but of which she’d seen gorgeous photos online.

Emma loved books. She had, right away, discovered the joys of literature after learning to read at the tender age of six. It had been her way to escape ever since, making the long years in foster care slightly more bearable. Whenever she was placed in a new home, she would immediately find out where the nearest library was located, because she knew she would spend most of her time there. And when the new family, eventually, got bored with her—because, let’s be honest, they always did—she at least had the adventures of Nancy Drew and the like to take back with her to the orphanage. Now, at the age of 32, she still found comfort in the written word, scouring through books very much the same way some people scoured through TV shows. Reading had always been her way of coping, her way of ignoring the realities of life and the fact that her life hadn’t exactly turned out the way she’d imagined when she was growing up.

Making her way through the aisles, Emma browsed the various sections on offer, from history to gardening and languages, until she spotted the one she was after: _fiction_. She slid her fingers along the spines, her eyes hungrily roaming over the titles and trying to decide which one to settle for.

"Can I help you in any way?” A gentle voice suddenly sounded behind her, and she visibly startled.

Turning to face the grey-haired man, Emma gave another smile. "Oh, I’m just browsing. I don’t know what I’m looking for. " She shrugged. "Yet. "

"Ah, I see." He gave an understanding nod. "Do you know if it’s something modern you’re after, or are you more prone to classics?"

"I just finished Paulo Coelho’s newest, so I think it’s time for something older for a change," Emma mused, her eyes darting between the two shelves titled ‘classics’. She spotted various titles by Mark Twain and pursed her lips in contemplation. She hadn’t read anything by him in a while.

The shop owner followed Emma’s line of sight. "Always an excellent choice," he approved. "I’ll be at the front if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

"Thank you," Emma noted absentmindedly, already pondering the choices on offer. She wanted something different this time, so that ruled out the usual suspects, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Picking up a collection of short stories titled _The £1,000,000 Bank Note and Other New Stories_ instead, she flipped through the book and decided it was what she was after. Content with her choice, Emma went to pay for the find, making a mental note to visit the charming book shop again sometime soon.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

"Margaret Atwood? Yet another excellent choice, miss," the owner of the book shop complimented and typed the price into the cash register.

"A girl needs to feel empowered every once in a while." Emma chuckled, her voice slightly raspy. Her head was pounding with a constant reminder of the hangover she was currently nursing, but she powered through it. "And please, call me Emma. ‘Miss’ makes me sound like a school teacher.”

"Very well. Nice to meet you, Emma." The man behind the counter extended his hand, smiling. "I’m Mr. Mills." Emma took his hand and shook it. "I have to say, it’s wonderful to see young people still reading and finding their way to small shops like mine. Most of the customers head straight to Barnes & Noble for a better selection."

"Oh, I would choose your shop over the bigger chains any day," Emma replied genuinely, handing over her credit card. "Feels more meaningful to find the right book in a place like this." She eyed the obviously rare volumes of books under the glass counter top. She recognized the 1st edition of _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_, admiring the obvious historical value of the book.

"I’m glad to hear that." Mr. Mills placed the book in a paper bag and handed it over. "See you next week, Emma."

"For sure." Emma eagerly accepted the bag and headed for the door, turning back right before heading out. "Thank you, Mr. Mills."

He gave a warm smile and waved, the bell above the door jingling brightly once again as Emma stepped out into the bright late morning sunshine. She immediately slipped her sunglasses back on, the light causing her tired eyes to protest.

The drive through Boston went smoothly, the Saturday morning traffic strangely non-existent, as Emma navigated her reliable yellow bug towards her downtown condo. Fifteen minutes later she slammed the front door closed with her foot, threw her keys into a bowl next to it, and dug out the book from the bag. Reading the back cover of _The Blind Assassin_ again, she headed for the living room, only to come to a halt at the open bathroom door. Taking a few steps back, she caught sight of the large mirror and realized what had caught her attention. There was smudged writing across it, obviously done with bright red lipstick.

_Last night was amazing. Call me. [6175550193] –Amanda_

There was a crude picture drawn next to it which Emma assumed was a heart.

"Fuck," Emma muttered, eyeing the mess in front of her and then pinching the bridge of her nose, exasperated. She didn’t have time for this, not today.

She had thought they’d been on the same page, specifically the page of no-strings-attached, but, apparently not. She should’ve known at the club already that Amanda was just a little too keen to hook up with her, a little too keen to find out things about her, and to cuddle with her in the morning, which is why Emma had made a hasty exit, citing an emergency at work. After driving around aimlessly, with a hangover from hell, she’d eventually found herself parked outside of Storybrooke. Spending the better part of the morning shopping for books, she’d figured Amanda would’ve gotten the hint and showed herself out, but, as it turned out, the woman had felt the need to re-decorate her bathroom first.

Emma made a mental note to tell Ruby to stop her from flirting with the clingiest, relationship hungry women next time they went out. With an annoyed sigh, she set the book on the living room table, downed another painkiller and stepped back into the bathroom with a rag.

_Who the hell thinks lipstick and a mirror is a better idea than a pen and a paper?_

She leaned against the sink, the red markings on the mirror glowing almost angrily before her. When had her life come to this? To one-night stands and ready meals, to odd jobs here and there and to living out of cardboard boxes, because she still hadn’t unpacked them all after moving to her current apartment six months previously. She just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be before the incident, before everything went _wrong_.

With newfound annoyance, she took the rag and wiped across the offending markings, only to find that the move made the lipstick smudge even more disgustingly across the smooth surface. 

"Fucking hell!" she cursed again, her eyes unexpectedly prickling with tears.

The mess on the mirror would be a real bitch to clean up – a goddamn metaphor for her life.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

"So, how’s Miss Here-are-my-boobs?" Ruby drawled in an amused manner, stirring her coffee. Emma scowled.

"You didn’t think to stop me at _any_ point?" Emma questioned, just a little bit disappointed in her best friend. Taking a sip from her cocoa, she fake glared at her companion sitting on the other side of the table.

"No." Ruby laughed. "You were having the time of your life."

"Let me tell you, I was not having the time of my life the following morning."

"Ouch." Ruby raised her eyebrows knowingly. "She stayed over?"

"And then some." Emma rubbed her face tiredly.

"How did you get her to leave?"

"I might’ve just disappeared," Emma mumbled sheepishly.

"Emma, you didn’t." Ruby gaped at her.

"I just didn’t have the strength to deal with it. It’s not like I’m proud of it," Emma defended herself and sighed. "Besides, I thought I made it clear to her that I didn’t want a marriage."

"A marriage? You lesbians, you don’t have to U-haul after the first date." Ruby gave laugh. "Besides, she didn’t seem that bad."

"She thought Salman Rushdie was an STD."

"Oh, dear."

"I’m just not ready for something serious." Emma shrugged, downing the last of the cocoa.

"You never are."

"Hey, not all of us want that." It was a blatant lie, but she wasn’t going to tell Ruby that.

"I just want you to be happy," Ruby said gently, and Emma knew she meant it.

"I will be." Emma stared at the empty cup on the table, glancing up at Ruby. "Eventually."

Ruby sighed, covering Emma’s hand on the table and giving it a small squeeze. "Guys at the precinct sent their regards." At Emma’s incredulous look, she gave a chuckle and continued: "Okay, it might’ve gone along the lines of, ‘hey, give that blondie a kick up the backside for not visiting’, and with more colorful vocabulary, but you get the gist."

"Bunch of twats." Emma laughed, withdrawing her hand from Ruby’s grip. "I promise to think about it." Emma knew she wasn’t ready, a twinge of guilt bubbling inside of her. 

"Make sure you do." Ruby nodded, standing up to leave. "You have work today?"

"Eh, no." Emma avoided looking at her best friend, but Ruby wasn’t fooled for a second.

"And why’s that, Emma?"

"I might’ve…punched a…customer." Emma cleared her throat. She threw a few notes on the table, still not looking at the other woman.

"Emma, what the hell?" Ruby asked, shocked. "You punched a customer at Walmart? Where you work?"

"Well, technically it’s _worked_, since-,"

"God dammit, Emma." 

"He grabbed my ass, all right?" Emma defended herself, feeling anger rise at the pit of her stomach from simply thinking about the altercation. "In the middle of the cereal aisle, too. And please, you would’ve knocked his teeth out yourself. He should be happy I didn’t do worse."

"Fair enough." Ruby sighed. They slowly walked towards Emma’s car in silence.

"It’d do you good to find something permanent in your life, that’s all. A hobby, maybe," Ruby finally said.

Emma buried her hands in her jacket pockets. "I have plenty of permanent things in my life." Her tone was just a little defensive.

"Name one," Ruby challenged.

"Well, you, for starters. You’re like a bad rash." Emma shrugged, taking a side step to avoid Ruby fake slapping her. "I have my books."

"Oh, my God. Books don’t count," Ruby said, exasperated. "You need a proper job, a relationship, something."

"We just went over this, Ruby."

"I know. I know. I’m just worried about you, that’s all."

They came to a halt besides Emma’s yellow bug, neither quite looking at the other. Emma knew Ruby meant well, but, at the same time, she didn’t want to be pressured and felt slightly cornered. She knew her life was practically in shambles, her pension fund becoming smaller every passing day, but it wasn’t like she could magically fix everything, to forget everything. She had her books, it would be enough. It always had been. She would bounce back, like always.

"I truly appreciate that, I do. But I’ll be fine," Emma assured, finally looking at her friend. She could see disbelief written all over Ruby’s features. "I promise. I’ve made it this far."

Ruby didn’t seem convinced, but decided to let it go anyway. Taking a few steps forward, she engulfed Emma in a hug. "Call me soon, and you really should come by the precinct at some point."

"I will." Fishing the car keys from her pocket, she got in and turned on the engine. Glancing one last time at Ruby, she winked and gave her best mischievous smile before pulling out into the traffic. Watching her friend getting smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror, she mulled over their conversation. Deep down, she knew Ruby was totally right: there was nothing permanent in her life, which, at the same time, made it practically impossible to let go of the past. But she wasn’t ready to admit it. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

"For me, it was Waltari’s _The Egyptian_. Impeccably written, but my God, it was like climbing Mount Everest." Mr. Mills shook his head, recounting the one book that had given him a headache.

Emma chuckled. "Everyone has that one, damn book which is just impossible, no matter how much you want to like it."

"Indeed."

They had chatted about books for the better part of an hour, getting carried away by the topic which was close to their hearts. It had become a routine for Emma to visit the shop every Saturday around noon, even if she wasn’t planning on actually buying anything. She enjoyed Mr. Mills' company immensely, and, judging by the unwavering attention he paid her, she figured he wasn’t that bothered by her presence either. Every once in a while there was a customer Mr. Mills attended to, but as soon as they were alone again, they seamlessly picked up from where they’d left off.

"Anyway, I might actually need your help today, Mr. Mills," Emma eventually announced.

"Always happy to be of service, Emma." The older man beamed. 

"I have no idea what I want to read." They walked to the familiar fiction section together. "Something lighter than Dostojevski, but no Nicholas Sparks either."

"Well, that narrows it down." Mr. Mills gave a hearty laugh. "You need to give me something to go on, dear."

"All right, something lighter this time."

"Patricia Cornwell lighter?"

"Uh, maybe ease up on the crime." The look that crossed her face must’ve given her away, because Mr. Mills was now eyeing her curiously, forcing her to elaborate. "I used to be a cop." She shrugged, slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, I’ll be." Mr. Mill’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead. Emma hoped he wouldn’t probe the issue any further and mentally sighed in relief when he went on: "So no Cornwell. How about Diana Gabaldon instead?"

"Hmm…" Emma pursed her lips, not quite feeling the historical romance either.

"I’ll take that as a no," he said, amused. "Okay, I don’t think we’ve covered this yet: how do you feel about fantasy?"

"Are you talking J.K. Rowling or David Eddings?"

"Of those two, more of _The Belgariad_ type of a thing."

"I’m listening."

"I have just the thing." Mr. Mills pulled the library ladder over and climbed up a few steps. Humming, he browsed the shelf, his fingers hopping from one book to the next, until he found what he was looking for. Pulling out a novel, he hopped back down and proudly handed it to Emma. "There you go."

"_Swear Not by the Moon_ by A.S. Smith?" Emma frowned, not quite sure what to make of the title, nor the front cover. "I’m not sure… Fairytales?"

"Tell you what, take the book. Try it out, and if you like it, come back and pay for it."

"I couldn’t possibly do that." Emma shook her head, automatically trying to hand back the book, but Mr. Mills put up his hands, refusing to accept it.

"I insist." He was adamant.

"I will pay for it," Emma assured, still hesitant to accept Mr. Mill’s offer. It just felt wrong.

"Only if you like it." He nodded, his mind made up. "Quite a few people have liked that one. It’s part of an ongoing series, so if you’re up for it, there’s one more waiting. The second one recently made it to the New York Times bestseller list."

"Thank you. I don’t quite know what to say."

"No need to thank me, dear. I really hope you enjoy it," he said genuinely, and Emma felt herself smiling. She really liked Mr. Mills. She enjoyed having someone to talk to about books, someone who actually understood what she was on about when she gushed about the ingenuity of Kurt Vonnegut or the beauty of Jane Austen – even if she didn’t quite agree with the 19th century world view.

With one final wave of her hand, Emma stepped outside into the afternoon sunshine, feeling much lighter than earlier, when she had stepped into the shop.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

For nearly a week, the newest addition to her book collection remained in the very same spot Emma had haphazardly shoved it after getting home. It was a Friday afternoon when she finally snatched it from the shelf. She felt agitated; it’d been a difficult week, more difficult than for a long time, and the darkness she’d carried with her ever since…ever since the _incident_, was constantly looming just beyond reach. It was precisely moments like this when she leaned on literature, immersing herself in other people’s stories, stories that saved her from the hopelessness she couldn’t quite shake off.

_Books are for people who wish they were somewhere else_. She remembered the Mark Twain quote and, yet again, deemed it to be extremely accurate.

Emma plopped down on the couch, a cup of steaming hot coffee sitting on the table in front of her. She studied the fantasy-type cover of the new book suspiciously, not at all convinced that it was going to be her cup of tea. Nevertheless, she had promised Mr. Mills to give it a go, and, besides, she really, truly needed a distraction. So, with a small huff, she flipped over to the first page and began to read. It soon became clear that the protagonist was, in fact, a princess ("Are you fucking for real?"), and Emma immediately wanted to hurl the whole thing out of the window in desperation; the last thing she wanted to read was a story about a lovesick princess looking for a sausage fest. But she read on, nevertheless, something in the style of writing keeping her just interested enough to continue. It was a fairytale setting, sure, but it soon became clear that the plot wasn’t going to revolve around the idea of a typical childish fable of finding true love.

As Emma devoured a page after a page, she became honestly intrigued; the motivation behind the protagonist’s actions shaped out to be her quest to find herself and her destiny, rather than waiting for a man to rescue her at the expense of her own identity. Leaning forward, Emma fumbled for the coffee, her eyes never leaving the words she was now hungrily devouring.

_Long ago, Alissa had learned not to trust anyone, especially those willing to do anything and everything for her - they always had an angle, always wanted something from her in the end, which is why she never let anyone close to her. She had been hurt too many times by people in her life, and she was adamant to not let it happen again. If that meant giving up on human contact altogether, so be it._

Emma raised her eyes from the book for the first time since opening it and stared ahead. She was basically reading about herself, it was ridiculous. Feeling nearly uncomfortable at how close to home the words in front of her hit, she cleared her throat and read on about the adventure on which Alissa was about to embark. How could she not practically inhale the words in front of her? With every passing page Emma was more certain that someone had copied her life and put it in a fantasy world setting, because she was essentially reading about herself, about her feelings and insecurities. It was as if someone had had an access to her deepest secrets and fears, and she was thoroughly unnerved but oddly thrilled at the same time.

Practically gobbling down the entire book at one sitting, Emma finally closed it at 4a.m. and slowly placed it on the table. She felt like someone had just taken her life apart and laid it out for the entire world to see. She felt exhausted, and not only for the lack of sleep.

She had to know how the saga continued, she just had to, which is why she was waiting outside of Storybrooke a few hours later when Mr. Mills flipped the ‘open’ sign at 9 am. Basically rushing past him, only briefly stopping to say good morning, Emma hurried over to the fantasy shelf and grabbed the second book of the series. Placing her finding on the counter, she spotted the amused look on Mr. Mill’s face.

"Shut up, old man," Emma muttered, making the shop owner laugh out loud.

Emma practically sprinted to the door, only to turn around at the last second. "Thank you," she said with utter sincerity, her words conveying a lot more than a simple thanks for a purchase. Emma saw Mr. Mill’s eyes moisten slightly.

"You’re more than welcome, dear," he replied, his voice wavering just a little bit. That was the last thing Emma heard before the door swung closed behind her.

In fact, that was the last thing she ever heard Mr. Mills say.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**


	2. Chapter 2

**\---**

_Alissa ran to the imposing gate, the darkness of the night providing the cover that she needed. She was almost free! At the last moment, a booming voice behind her stopped Alissa before she could make her escape._

_"If you step through that gate, you’re dead to me, daughter."_

_Alissa slowly turned to face her father, and, for the first time in her life, his imperial figure did not scare her. In fact, he seemed almost weak, as if frightened by the strength of will emanating from his own flesh and blood._

_"You were willing to sell me into a loveless marriage simply for the financial prosperity of the kingdom. Father, I am already dead to you." Staring him squarely in the eye, she knew what she had to do._

_In the dead of the night, the creak of the gate was nearly deafening as Alissa stepped through it and left everything she’d ever known behind._

**\---**

It wasn’t until weeks later that Emma finally made her way to Storybrooke again. A sudden, three-week job at a nearby construction site had kept her busy, and all the remaining free time she’d spent reading and rereading her new favorite book series. She was absolutely enamored with it, not even completely able to put into words why she felt so completely connected with it. It was an intricate story of self-discovery, the words on the pages so full of realism, despite the setting, that Emma nearly forgot to breath every now and again. And when, at times, the words hit just a little too close to home, hurting almost more than Emma could bear, the simple beauty of the writing kept her reading. With undivided attention, she followed Alissa through kingdoms and unfamiliar lands, experienced exciting adventures and watched the princess forge a friendship with a female bandit on the way. It was all, simply, _exquisite_.

Emma had finished a reread of the second volume the previous night and she was still reeling from the sense of loss it’d stirred in her. A quick Google search later, she found out that the next book in the series wouldn’t be published until the end of the year, which nearly infuriated her. It was only March! She was like an addict who was suddenly forced into rehab against her will.

Reaching the bookshop, deep in thought, Emma grabbed the handle on the door and pushed, but, surprisingly, it wouldn’t budge. Instead, she nearly slammed her face against it by accident. Frowning, she peered through the window, but the shop was dark and obviously closed. Hoping that everything was all right, she walked away confused, only to return a few days later to find the shop in very much the same state.

"What a…," she muttered, again trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything, through the window which might explain the desolate shop.

"Oh, it probably won’t open anymore," a voice said a little farther away, startling Emma.

She turned to look where the voice had come from, and her eyes landed on an elderly woman who was turning a key in the door of a flower shop next door.

"I’m sorry?" Emma said, perplexed.

"I said that the shop probably won’t open anytime soon," the woman repeated, finally managing to unlock the door. "The owner had a stroke."

"What?" Emma asked, utterly shocked. "When?"

"A few weeks ago." Only now the woman turned to fully look at her. "Arrived to open my shop in the morning and happened to see the poor man through the window. Called 911 right away, but, unfortunately, there was nothing they could do."

"He…" Emma swallowed hard, struggling to grasp what she was hearing. "He died?"

"Yes." The woman gave a small nod. "I’m sorry," she added, seemingly just realizing that the younger woman’s reaction was stronger than that of a random customer.

Emma turned back to the shop, only vaguely hearing her informant step into the flower shop and leave her alone on the street. She felt…numb. Irrationally, she felt somehow responsible, felt like she should’ve done more, although the rational part of her brain was aware of the fact that there was nothing she could’ve possibly done. She suddenly realized that she didn’t know if Mr. Mills had any family, if he had a wife or children. She didn’t even know his _first name_. Her thoughts in a jumbled mess, Emma took a few steps back, giving the exterior of the shop one, final look, before walking away from Storybrooke for what she thought was the last time.

Given the finality of the moment, a little less than a month later, Emma nearly rear-ended the car in front of her when she happened to drive past the place where her favorite bookshop had used to be, only to realize that, instead of seeing a generic 7-Eleven or a hairdresser’s, the shop was still there – and the sign at the door actually said ‘open’. Spotting a free parking spot, Emma swerved hard to the right and parked (at least semi-legally), practically running across the street to the shop’s door. With a trembling hand—she felt utterly ridiculous that she was so affected—Emma pushed at the handle, once more hearing the familiar creaking of the door and the jingle of the bell above it.

Stepping into the shop, Emma surveyed her surroundings, finding everything as it had been – except the person behind the counter. Her eyes landed on a brunette in her 30s, and, fleetingly, Emma thought that she probably hadn’t seen a woman as striking as her before. After hearing a customer enter, said woman raised her eyes from the papers in front of her, and their gazes met.

Inexplicably, Emma felt her world tilt on its axis.

Somewhere at the back of her mind, Emma knew that she was blatantly staring, but she was just simply shocked about the unexpected turn of events, unable to look at anything but into the intelligent, distantly familiar eyes in front of her.

The other woman frowned. "Hello," she greeted politely, but it was, perhaps, the slight undercurrent of annoyance which finally shook Emma from the spell she was under. She blinked.

"Hi," she replied, forcing herself to turn her gaze somewhere else.

"Can I help you?"

"I…I used to come here a lot." Emma mentally kicked herself for being so unbelievably inarticulate.

"Okay?" The frown was still present on the woman’s face, but it was now less pronounced. "Feel free to browse around." She went back to the papers on the counter, a lock of brown hair falling on her face. With an annoyed sigh, she brought it back behind her ear again before scribbling something down.

Emma cleared her throat and made her way behind the shelves, only to try and catch glimpses of the other woman through the cracks. Absentmindedly flipping through a book which she honestly couldn’t have named, she curiously regarded the new shopkeeper who was now gently shaking her head, clearly not satisfied with something she saw in her notes.

It happened so quickly that Emma wasn’t prepared to react. All of a sudden, the brunette halted what she was doing and looked up towards Emma, their eyes meeting through a crack in the shelf. Knowing she was completely busted, Emma quickly turned away, feeling her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

"Anything I can help you with?" The other woman’s voice sounded dangerously low. Emma stepped out from behind the shelf.

"I’m sorry." In her shame, she couldn’t quite bring herself to look at her again. "I didn’t mean to come across like a goddamn creep, I’m really sorry." As she finally had the courage to glance up, she found the woman regarding her, her eyes pure ice.

"Right."

"I swear. It’s just that… I really did use to come here often, and I was simply surprised to see the shop open and someone else here rather than Mr. Mills," Emma offered apologetically. She saw a hint of pain cross the brunette’s face. "My name is Emma, Emma Swan. I swear I didn’t mean any disrespect." She offered her hand which was swiftly ignored.

"I see," Regina stated. Emma felt she was still being assessed and lowered her hand, embarrassed. The fact that the other woman didn’t even introduce herself in return did not go unnoticed by her. "Well, you might want to get the books you want quickly, then, because it seems like my father was not, in fact, the most genius of businessmen. The shop won’t remain open much longer, I’m afraid," the woman said matter-of-factly.

"You father? Mr. Mills was your father?" Emma asked, surprised. There had never been any indication that he had a family, but at least now she knew why the woman’s eyes were somehow familiar. "He never said anything."

"Why would he have? We weren’t exactly on speaking terms." She observed Emma almost regally, her posture straight and the look on her face giving nothing away.

"Oh. I’m sorry." Emma realized it was the second time she was uttering an apology to the mystery woman in as many minutes and mentally facepalmed herself.

"Don’t be." The woman gave a humorless laugh. "Now, Miss _Swan_," she began, emphasizing her name as if she were a child. "If there’s nothing else, I really need to get back to these figures." She indicated the various stacks of paper in front of her. "As I told you, feel free to look around," she finished with a tone which told Emma that their little conversation was as good as over.

"Right," Emma muttered, trying to quell the feeling of annoyance sparked by being outright ignored and treated like an inferior. Purposefully stalking to the good old fiction section, she went through the titles until the she found the one she was looking for. With a sweet smile, she tossed her pick on the counter in front of the woman who had managed to utterly irritate her in a whopping span of five sentences.

The brunette took one look at Emma’s choice and wasn’t able to completely hide her displeasure. Emma complimented herself for the childish nab and watched as the woman, a little too forcefully, typed in the price of Shakespeare’s _The Taming of the Shrew_.

"That’d be $35.95, please." 

Digging out her credit card, Emma’s hand faltered. "What?" she asked in disbelief. "The back sleeve says $12.95."

"That is the normal price, yes. Unfortunately, we’ve been forced to raise our prices, given the unfortunate state the shop is currently in." Emma could hear the subtle smugness in the other woman’s voice and knew she’d lost this round. Deflated, she handed over her credit card.

"Thank you." Emma smiled, insincerely, as she accepted her card back and snatched the book from the counter. Sauntering out of the shop, she could practically feel the brown eyes bore into the back of her head.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

Despite her best intentions, Emma found herself back in the shop the following Saturday. She’d come to the conclusion that it bothered her immensely that the woman, who was still somewhat of a mystery and whose name she didn’t even know, thought she was some sort of an idiot. She wanted a fresh start, if for no other reason than the fact that she had really, truly liked the ice queen’s father. Strangely, she felt like she owed it to Mr. Mills to make amends with his daughter, despite the fact that they, apparently, hadn’t been very close.

Through the window, Emma saw the woman who, during the past week, had entered her thoughts more times than she cared to admit. Unnoticed, she watched her go through stacks of books on the counter and jotting down notes in her papers, every once in a while running a hand through her thick, brown hair in an almost exasperated manner. She was—Emma hated to admit it—unbelievably gorgeous, as well as stylish, in her black, obviously tailored slacks and a purple turtleneck. Emma suddenly felt inexplicably nervous. Biting the bullet, she pushed the door open and stepped in.

Their eyes met again, and Emma could see a wave of displeasure cross the other woman’s features.

"Déjà vu?" Emma offered and gave a small shrug.

"Indeed." The woman lowered the pen on the table and crossed her arms – a defense mechanism if there ever was one. She viewed Emma suspiciously.

"Would you believe it, I came to apologize," Emma said, her voice more confident than what she actually felt deep down. She buried her hands in her jeans pockets.

The only reply was a raised eyebrow.

"I realized I might’ve come off a little…immature." It pained Emma to admit it. "And I hate to think that you might think less of me for it."

"Why?" The question was actually genuine.

"Because I was friends with your father. Or, at least, that’s how I would characterize it," Emma reasoned. "And it doesn’t feel right to be arguing with a daughter of a friend."

The woman studied her for the longest time, as if trying to decipher whether Emma was somehow trying to fool her or not. Finally, she cleared her throat, uncrossing her arms at the same time.

"Fine." She nodded and picked up the pen again, going back to her notes.

Emma chuckled. The woman was absolutely infuriating, but Emma found that, for some reason, she couldn’t quite stay mad at her. Taking a few steps closer to the counter, she waited until the brown eyes were on her again.

"So, can we start over?" Emma extended her hand. "I’m Emma Swan."

For a few seconds, she thought the other woman would simply ignore her again, but, finally, a delicate hand grasped hers.

"Regina Mills." Emma watched, fascinated, as the name rolled off the brunette’s tongue. Regina. She liked that, for some reason. She liked it a lot.

"Okay." Emma nodded, satisfied. "Nice to meet you, Regina."

Regina opened her mouth, as if to say something, but then decided against it. She settled for a small nod instead, but Emma was happy to take it. It was something, at least. Retreating to browse the books, Emma felt good for making the effort; she had a feeling Mr. Mills would’ve appreciated it as well.

Trying to decide whether any book was worth buying that week, Emma vaguely heard the bell above the door jingle, signaling another potential customer entering the shop. She kept going through the titles on the shelf, none of them particularly catching her fancy, and, finally, she decided to leave empty handed. Heading towards the door, though, she couldn’t help overhearing the discussion taking place at the counter.

"I will give you $100 for it," a man in his 50s was carefully leafing through the very same 1st edition of _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ that Emma had admired during one of her first visits to the shop. She came to a halt, wanting to know how Regina would respond to the ridiculous offer, and nearly fainted when she heard the reply:

"I think $150 would be more appropriate."

Emma reacted before she even knew what she was doing.

"Oh, my God. Is that a 1st edition?" she gushed, joining the pair at the counter. Two annoyed pairs of eyes were now looking at her. Reaching towards the book regardless, she continued: "It’s in an incredible condition, too, I can’t believe it. Worth hundreds of dollars, easily!" At that, she chanced a meaningful glance at Regina.

The man scowled, clearly displeased that scoring an obvious bargain was not a certainty anymore. "Oh, I don’t think it’s _hundreds_ of dollars, that’s quite absurd," he tried anyway.

"Oh, I’m quite sure it is," Emma challenged, still acting innocent. Her displeasure was growing by the second, though. They stared at each other, neither budging an inch.

"How remarkable, she…seems to be right," Regina broke the invisible duel before her, her voice actually tinted with awe. Flipping the screen of her phone towards them, they could see a Google search with links to sites that sold the very same 1st edition for $1,000, minimum. "On second thought, I think I’ll keep this. I’m sure you understand."

The man harrumphed, shooting an angry side glance at Emma. "Fair enough. Good day to you then." He exited the shop, closing the door behind him so forcefully that the fastening of the bell above it actually broke and it fell on the floor.

"Bastard," Emma mumbled, picking up the small bell and bringing it to Regina.

"Thank you," Regina said quietly, though Emma wasn’t sure if it was for the bell, or for preventing a disastrous sale of American literary history.

"You’re welcome." Emma swayed on her heels, not quite sure how to proceed. "Um, want me to hang it back up?" She indicated the bell which Regina had now placed on top of the cash register.

"There’s probably no point." Regina sighed. "I’m forced to close this place soon anyway."

"Why?"

"Why do you ever need to close down a business? It’s not generating enough money."

"But…" Emma wasn’t quite sure why she had such a hard time accepting the fact that the shop might soon be gone – for the second time.

"I don’t have time for this anyway, so there’s no way in hell I can keep the place afloat." It sounded like it took a lot from Regina to admit it.

For the second time in a span of ten minutes, Emma reacted before she actually realized she was doing so, or without understanding fully what it was that she was actually saying. "Let me try. Hire me."

"What?" Regina look amused.

"Hire me. Give me a couple of months and if the sales haven’t improved at all, then close the shop." Frankly, she knew nothing about running a business, but there was no turning back now.

"You are serious." It was more of an amused statement than a question.

"Yes."

Regina studied her for a while, clearly running scenarios in her head. "No," was all Emma got before the brunette unlocked the counter top and placed the rare book she’d almost sold back inside.

Emma heard the door open as another customer stepped inside, but she was unable to tear her eyes away from Regina. "Why not?" She couldn’t even explain to herself why it mattered so much.

_You know nothing about running a business!_

"Because," Regina replied curtly, and even without really knowing the woman, Emma knew she was on thin ice.

"I really think-,"

"I said no," Regina interrupted her, taking a few, almost threatening steps towards Emma. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she challenged Emma for a few seconds before turning away and going to serve the new customer.

Emma released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She let it go.

For now.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

Emma really should’ve seen the gun, should’ve expected it, but, alas, there was nothing she could do. The blood was oozing through her fingers, even if she was doing everything in her power to stop it. Her own breath was now coming out in short, panicky gasps, and she was sure she was going to faint.

_No. No, no, no, no!_

With a start, Emma shot up in bed, her shirt soaked with sweat, heart beating a mile a minute. Although it was dark, she raised her hands before her eyes, needing to make sure they weren’t covered in red, in grime. They were clean. They were _clean_.

It’d been a while since she’d had that particular nightmare, but it was always as gut-wrenching. Emma rubbed her eyes, willing to get her emotions under control. She wandered to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water with shaking hands.

"It’ll go away," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes and leaning against the counter. Taking a deep breath, she waited for her heart to calm down and, little by little, she began feeling somewhat normal again. Downing the remaining of the water, she made her way towards the living room with slightly wobbly steps.

Not even attempting to go back to sleep, Emma snatched her laptop off the couch and began surfing aimlessly. A few cat videos and a quick Facebook check later, she found herself staring at the screen, bored.

Before it really registered what she was doing, she’d typed “Regina Mills” into Google and pressed enter. What Emma didn’t expect was to find countless mentions regarding various political articles the woman had written, making it abundantly clear that she was a journalist. The New York Times, The Guardian, The Wall Street Journal…

Emma felt slightly overwhelmed.

She clicked on an article titled _The Truth behind the Saudi Coalition in Yemen_ and was greeted by Regina’s picture on top. ‘Regina Mills, freelance journalist’, the article proclaimed. Emma read it and she had to admit, she was pretty damn impressed.

_Regina Mills wins the David Nyhan Price for political journalism_ was another search result that caught Emma’s attention and she promptly clicked it. She marveled at the photo attached to the article (Regina smiling faintly and accepting an award from a gray-haired man) and then skimmed though the text. Apparently, Regina had graduated from Columbia University at the top of her class—at this point, Emma really wouldn’t have expected anything less—and had went on to work for various, highly esteemed newspapers. Her expertise seemed to be international politics – or, at least, that was the topic of most of the articles Emma came across.

Emma also learned that Regina didn’t have any social media accounts, not even a LinkedIn one (she really, _really_ tried finding them and wasn’t even ashamed). Though, as she, eventually, emerged from the pits of attempted Facebook stalking, she did feel slightly like the creep she’d assured Regina she wasn’t.

Powering down her computer, Emma came to the conclusion that she probably _did_ need that hobby Ruby was always pestering her about. With newfound vigor, she began planning her next move.

Ruby _so_ wasn’t going to like this.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

Emma could practically feel the annoyance oozing off of Regina in waves as she, a few days later, entered Storybrooke again.

"Miss Swan, was it?" Regina’s tone was exasperated.

"Regina," Emma greeted her, purposefully using the other woman’s first name. She came to a halt at the counter and smiled with just a touch of defiance, which clearly annoyed the person on the other side of the counter.

"What can I do for you?” The question was as insincere as the smile accompanying it.

"Let me run the shop for a while."

"Not this again," Regina groaned, clearly incensed, her shoulders slumping.

"I’m serious."

"So am I." Regina’s eyes bore into Emma’s, and Emma suddenly forgot how to breathe. Nevertheless, she didn’t budge, holding Regina’s gaze until the other woman turned hers away first. "You’re a menace," Regina muttered, but her annoyance seemed to be easing up a little.

"True." Emma chuckled. "But I also know I can make it work, if you would only give me a chance."

"Make it work?" Regina’s tone was mocking again. "After my father wasn’t able to keep this place afloat with nearly 40 years of experience? Please. This place is one tax audit away from bankruptcy."

"Your father was a wonderful person who loved this shop," Emma noted and saw a darkness pass across Regina’s face at the mention of her father. "But he wasn’t very… up to date when it came to promoting this place and making it known. I can do that." She stood up straighter. "But as I said, only if you gave me a chance. Please."

"Why?" Regina asked after a pregnant pause, her tone bordering on curious, rather than hostile. "Why would anyone in their right mind want to take this on?"

"I just…" Emma shook her head before glancing ruefully at Regina. "I just feel like I’m meant to do this."

If possible, Regina looked even less convinced.

"Do you even have any experience about this sort of a thing?" Regina made a haphazard gesture around her.

"No." Regina rolled her eyes. "But hear me out!" she blurted before Regina had time to end the conversation.

Emma pointed to the corner between the history and the social sciences sections. "I’ve always thought a small table and a chair would fit in there nicely, creating a spot where customers would be able to read; nothing too extravagant, something that fits this space. And, I would invest in a proper coffee machine, so that they could enjoy a cappuccino while reading, because that seems to be all the rage nowadays. That way, we could have the services of a big chain, but the cozy atmosphere of a small shop."

For the first time since Emma’s impromptu suggestion, Regina looked intrigued, which was all the encouragement she needed to keep going: "Right, then the advertisement. It’s 2019, we need to get this shop online. A website obviously, but a great deal of marketing can be done through social media. If we can get a couple of people talking about the shop, the word will soon spread."

"What was it that you do for a living again?" Regina asked, eyeing Emma curiously and, maybe for the first time, properly.

"Uh, I’m unemployed."

"How convenient." The look on Regina’s face veered back to uncertain again, but Emma was more than determined to convince her – not the least, because she had a strange need for Regina to think highly of her.

"I used to be a cop." She cleared her throat before continuing: "I resigned a while back, after which I’ve been doing odd jobs here and there, waiting for the permanent one to come along. And, now, I have a feeling that this might be it. I love books, I always have, and I swear I’ll take good care of this place, if you’ll let me."

Regina regarded her thoughtfully, and, once again, Emma refused to fidget nervously under her piercing gaze. The silence stretched on, until Regina suddenly uttered: "Three months."

Emma’s eyes widened. "Seriously?" She couldn’t help the grin spreading on her face.

"I can’t believe it either. Three months, because that’s all the shop’s bank account has left. And I simply don’t have time to do anything with this place myself."

"You won’t regret this, Regina."

"We’ll see," the other woman stated, peering down at her phone. "You free next Tuesday? We could go over the specifics then."

"I’m free whenever you want me to be," Emma said earnestly. She was beyond excited about the latest turn of events. She couldn’t wait to tell Ruby.

"Tuesday it is then, let’s say…noon?"

"Absolutely. I’ll see you then." Turning to leave, Emma was brought to a halt by Regina’s voice.

"Oh, Miss Swan? Just out of curiosity, because I like to know who I’m doing business with. Why did you resign from the force?"

Emma opened and closed her mouth a few times, not knowing how to reply; she hadn’t been expecting that question. “I just… I just felt like it was time to do something else," she finally answered in a non-committed manner.

"I see." It felt like Regina’s eyes could see right through her, and Emma knew the other woman was anything but satisfied with her answer. Then again, Emma was pretty certain Regina would do a background check on her anyway, through which she would at least find out Emma wasn’t dishonorably discharged.

"I’ll see you on Tuesday. Oh, and Regina?" she added as an afterthought. "Don’t call me Miss Swan. It makes me sound like a grandma."

"I can’t make any promises." Was that a sliver of humor Emma detected in her future boss’ voice? With an amused shake of her head, Emma left the shop with a much lighter step than when she’d initially arrived.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a disclaimer, I know absolutely NOTHING about running a business. So, yeah, don't yell at me, please.

\---  
_"You really shouldn’t traipse the woods by yourself," a female voice sounded somewhere above, startling Alissa, and the princess’ hand automatically moved to the knife attached to her hip._

_She glanced up and spotted a woman, roughly her age, sitting casually on a branch of a large oak tree._

_"I can travel wherever I please," she replied curtly, lowering her hand, though still eyeing the woman with suspicion._

_"Oh, you certainly can, I’m just not recommending it." With surprising agility, the woman lowered herself to the ground and came face to face with Alissa. "At least, not without a guide."_

_The grin on the stranger’s face was annoyingly infectious, and Alissa had a feeling she’d lost a round of a game she hadn’t even known she was playing. It became even more obvious when she, a little while later, found herself trekking behind the strange woman—Remi, she was called—who’d promised to get her through the woods in one piece “just for a guinea”. Alissa sighed._

_It was going to be a long journey._

\---

"You did what?" Ruby exclaimed, eyes widening.

"I will have my own bookshop," Emma said proudly, raising a cup of cocoa to her lips.

"Oh, my God," Ruby groaned, burying her head in her hands.

It was somewhat of a comical sight: a police officer, in full uniform, looking like someone had just informed her she couldn’t eat donuts in the patrol car anymore. Emma glanced bashfully around, hoping no one was paying them any attention, before she leaned forward again.

"This is a good thing!" Setting the cup on the table a little too forcefully, Emma managed to slosh some of the cocoa over the sides. "Besides, didn’t you specifically want me to find something more permanent to do?"

"Well, I didn’t mean buying a sinking ship and trying to sail to the Caribbean with it!"

"Hilarious."

"Emma, you know nothing about running a business!"

"How hard can it be, really?"

"Jesus Christ, I thought I was the irresponsible one."

"Look, I have so many ideas for the shop," Emma gushed in excitement. "I’m certain I can get it up and running properly."

"You’ve lost your fucking mind." Ruby didn’t look at all convinced, but Emma didn’t let it bother her. 

Weirdly, she felt like her life finally had a purpose again, a meaning. Ever since quitting the force, she had basically aimlessly drifted around, and she just _knew_ this was exactly what she’d been waiting for.

Sighing, Ruby clearly decided to let it go, for now. She poured another sachet of sugar into her coffee. "So, who is this clearly insane person who lets you play businesswoman?"

Emma ignored the obvious jab. "Regina. She’s the daughter of the previous owner, the one who passed away. I assume she inherited the shop," she explained.

"Regina, huh?"

"Nothing like that." Emma rolled her eyes.

"Right."

"I’m serious. She’s only in it for the business; as am I."

Emma thought back to their meeting the previous Tuesday, how Regina had made it quite clear that she wasn’t really interested in the everyday matters of the shop, as long as the balance under the line would increase. That suited Emma fine; she would be able to carry out her plans without needing to check every single decision with the owner first.

"What does she do then, if the shop is just a secondary thing to her?"

"She said she’s a freelance journalist." That’s all Emma had dared to ask, even if the answer didn’t provide her with any other information besides what she’d already known after her little sleuthing operation the previous week.

Emma would classify herself as a private person, but Regina was certainly in a league of her own when it came to sharing. It had become obvious very early on in their meeting that there was no use in asking personal questions: Regina simply would not answer them. Many times, she even blatantly ignored them, leaving Emma hanging.

"Hmm…" Ruby squinted, clearly thinking. "I wonder if I’ve ever read anything by her."

"Yeah, I didn’t dare ask." Seeing Ruby’s questioning look, she elaborated: "She’s not exactly an open book when it comes to her private life. I’ve obviously googled her, though."

"Obviously," Ruby said with mirth.

"Anyway." Emma ignored Ruby’s comment. "I found pieces she’s written for newspapers, like The New York Times and The Washington Post. She’s also won some fancy-pansy award, so yeah, she’s legit."

"A mysterious beneficiary gives a blonde literary nerd a bookshop to run. Almost sounds like a setting for a badly written romance novel." Ruby chuckled.

"Oh, shut it," Emma muttered. "Besides, once I’m done with the shop, that novel’s going to be a fucking masterpiece."

Ruby guffawed, her unadulterated reaction causing Emma to shake her head, but a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, nevertheless.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

Emma wanted to do it all as well and properly as possible. She read _Starting a Business for Dummies_ (the first time she’d ever invested in a self-help book) and got another one on accounting. Without taking too much away from the original charm of the shop, she slightly updated the layout of it by switching some of the sections around and buying a small table, as well as two chairs, just like she’d described Regina she would. She set up a Facebook page for the shop and got a website up and running by contacting a web designer she knew from her days in blue. The biggest investment was a La Marzocco coffee machine, but she was convinced it’d pay itself back sooner rather than later, which is why she went through dozens of coffee making tutorials on YouTube in order to master the perfect foam.

Realizing that she needed a proper checkout counter slash coffee making corner for the shop, Emma decided to take the old counter area apart completely and redesign it. That is how she ended up paneling the back wall one day, carefully fitting the boards together in a perfect line. The exertion caused beads of sweat to gather on her forehead, but she refused to do the job at hand less than immaculately. She was just about to get it right when she heard a key in the door, her heart fluttering despite herself. Unable to let go of the board, she called out a greeting over her shoulder and carefully fixed it in place with precision.

"Hi." She grinned as she finally stood up from the floor, wiping her sweaty forehead with a towel. Thankfully, she’d decided to braid her hair earlier and wear a tank top, which made sweating a little bit more bearable.

Regina didn’t reply. She simply stared at Emma, a foreign look on her face. Emma frowned, unable to decipher it. Had it been anyone else, she would’ve easily counted two plus two and grinned mischievously at the blatant admiration of her—she wasn’t shy to admit it—almost flawless physique. But this was…Regina. And seeing Regina’s eyes travel the length of her body made Emma nervous as hell.

"Regina?" she tried again, and, all of a sudden, the spell broke. Regina snapped out of her thoughts and, for the first time, looked her in the eye.

"Yes." Regina cleared her throat, walking past Emma to observe the worksite. "I was in the neighborhood and decided to come and see if you’re still adamant in getting this place up and running."

"A little too late to back down now, I’m afraid." Emma chuckled, picking up a water bottle and taking a long swig from it. From the corner of her eye, she saw Regina glancing at her, only to quickly turn her gaze away again.

"Indeed." Turning fully to her now, Regina was all business. "So, have you decided the date for the _grand opening_ yet?" The emphasis made it clear that Regina was just as doubting about their little business venture as Ruby.

"On Saturday."

"Really?" Regina asked, incredulous. "You’re going to finish all this in four days?" She made a circling gesture with her hand.

"Yes."

"Well then, at least ambition is not something you’re lacking."

"Never have." Emma’s smirk was almost smug, and Regina rolled her eyes.

"You’re one of those brats who always get what they want, aren’t you?" There was no malice in Regina’s voice, but Emma flinched, nevertheless.

"I wish," Emma murmured, turning towards the paneling job at hand again. She didn’t want Regina to see how close to home the innocently meant joke had hit. "So, any chance I’ll be seeing my boss at the _grand opening_ on Saturday?" she asked, desperate to change the subject. If Regina noticed her discomfort, she didn’t show it.

"Perhaps."

"Seriously? That’s all I get after slaving to get _your_ business up and running?" Emma feigned being insulted.

"I never said I’m a boss who wants to be involved."

"Bullshit. You’re a total control freak."

"Excuse me?" Regina crossed her arms.

"Come on, Regina. We haven’t known each other that long, but-,"

"We, in fact, do not know each other at all." Regina bristled.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Emma continued pointedly. "I find it hard to believe you wouldn’t want to be on top of everything that concerns you. You act like you don’t, but that’s not really the case, is it? Just a feeling I’ve got." Emma raised her hands, palms up in a surrendering motion. "Correct me if I’m wrong."

Regina opened and closed her mouth, clearly annoyed by Emma’s statute observation. "That is not a bad thing," she finally uttered, clearly unable to deny that Emma’s words had at least a hint of truth in them.

"Never said it was." Emma’s eyes sparkled. She didn’t know why she enjoyed ruffling Regina’s feathers so much. "So, see you at ten on Saturday?"

"Like I said, a brat who always gets what she wants." Regina sighed, defeated.

"Well, can you really blame me?" In hindsight, Emma really shouldn’t have been so complacent, forgetting who it was exactly she was conversing with. Accompanied by a grin, the comment accidentally came out much flirtier than Emma had intended, and she immediately knew it was a mistake.

"Excuse me?" Regina’s eyes flashed, and Emma could basically see the invisible wall snap back in place as Regina’s features hardened.

"I mean, can you blame me for wanting my boss to come to the shop opening. You’re the one with the executive power, so, uh, I didn’t mean it like…like that," Emma desperately tried to save it, but she knew it was utterly useless.

She wanted to slap herself for unintentionally screwing up the possible start of a friendship. Well, a _quasi_-friendship, at least.

Regina simply stood there, her mouth a thin line, and with every passing, awfully awkward second, Emma wanted more and more to crawl behind the newly fixed wall panels and never come out again. She could slowly get mummified in there, that’d be fine!

"I am, indeed, your _boss_." Regina’s voice was dangerously emotionless. "Good night, Miss Swan."

Regina pulled the overcoat tighter around herself and turned on her heels. Emma watched her retreating back, unable to think of anything to say which wouldn’t make the already bad situation worse. The door slammed closed, harder than necessary, and the only thing Emma was pleased about was the fact that she hadn’t yet had time to hang the bell back up above it.

"Fucking brilliant," Emma muttered, hurling the towel she’d still been holding across the room.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

Emma had read the same paragraph three times already, but it still made no sense. Groaning, she thrusted the book away and leaned her head against the back of the couch. She’d messed up. She’d messed up so bad. Usually, she was able to distract herself from her various fuckups by reading a good book, but even that was useless in the current situation. She hadn’t meant to come across so strongly, hadn’t meant to be such a shameless flirt, it’d simply slipped out. She just shouldn’t be allowed near women, it was becoming painfully obvious.

From a purely physical point of view, she _was_ attracted to Regina. Because, who wouldn’t be? Regina was drop dead gorgeous, and if she wasn’t as intimidatingly scary as she was, Emma would’ve made her move already long ago. But it had become obvious early on that Regina was an incredibly private and closed off person, and, more than anything, it had dawned on Emma that she had simply wanted to become someone the other woman would see as her equal, with no ulterior motives. And now she’d completely ruined any chance of that happening by acting like a damn pervert.

"Shit, shit, _shit_!" She hit the cushion next to her so hard it flew over the armrest and knocked down a glass of water. Rushing over to save her precious books, she heard the doorbell ring. "Fuck. Just a minute!" she yelled, grabbing the books and dabbing the spilled water with the few tissues she had at hand. Drying the biggest spills, she figured it’d have to do. Hurrying to the front door and swinging it open, she came face to face with Ruby carrying a six pack of Heineken. Emma had forgotten she’d texted her best friend earlier, moaning about her damn big mouth and inability to behave.

"I brought reinforcements," Ruby announced, stepping to the side and revealing a petit woman with a pixie cut hair.

"Hi," Mary Margaret greeted with a sympathetic smile.

If there was a person who differed from Emma in every way possible, it was Mary Margaret. In all likelihood, they shouldn’t have bonded as friends, but as soon as she’d met the wife of a former colleague, David Nolan, they’d forged an easy friendship which had carried over to the present day.

"Come in," Emma said, deflated, and retreated back to the living room, setting the pile of books on a shelf in the process.

Emma rarely had people come over, because she didn’t think it was very classy to entertain among cardboard boxes and piles after piles of books. But, right at this moment, she was rather desperate. Flopping back down on the couch, she watched Ruby and Mary Margaret take a seat in the same armchair, the latter on its armrest.

"Emma, what happened?" Mary Margaret’s voice was full of compassion. Emma didn’t understand how she could always be so understanding, right off the bat. And she didn’t even seem to know yet why she’d been dragged along by Ruby.

"I’m an idiot." Emma pinched the bridge of nose, accepting a bottle of Heineken from Ruby.

"Tell us something we don’t know," Ruby chuckled. "Sorry," she apologized, seeing the unamused looks directed at her.

Emma took a swig of the beer and sighed. "I _might_ have, completely by accident, mind you, come onto my boss, which, then, _might_ have resulted in her storming out of the shop, eyes blazing." Picking the label of the bottle with her nail, she didn’t dare look at her friends. When no one said anything, she chanced a glance at the two women who, she found, were staring at her, eyes wide.

"Emma, tell us everything." Mary Margaret leaned forward, giving her full attention to the woman sulking on the couch.

"Yeah, how the hell did you end up going all lesbian on her in a span of a few weeks?" Emma scowled at Ruby. "Sorry! I just can’t help myself. I’m serious, what happened?"

Tentatively, Emma began relying information, about the shop and Regina in general, and then about the previous afternoon when she’d managed to shove her foot so far into her mouth she thought she’d have a brain aneurysm. Taking a deep breath, she finally finished her story and leaned back on the couch, defeated.

"Damn," Ruby stated, leaning back on the armchair as well and downing the rest of her beer.

"Right?" Emma moaned, burying her head in her hands. "Why am I such a moron?"

"You’re not a moron," Mary Margaret piped up.

"My boss, the Ice Queen, thinks I made a pass at her, and I didn’t even do it on purpose," Emma deadpanned, her voice muffled by her hands.

"Well, at least it was only verbally." The smaller woman made a calming gesture with her hand, only to sharply look at Emma. "_Right_?" She suddenly sounded alarmed.

"Oh, my God, I might be an idiot, but I’m not suicidal!" Emma exclaimed irately. "I don’t know what to do," she then lamented.

"You’ll do as planned," Ruby reasoned, shrugging. "You’ll open the shop, you’re going to do your best to make it a successful business, and you’re not going to address what happened in any way."

"I’ll just act like it never happened?" Emma questioned, unconvinced. "Isn’t that a really cowardly thing to do?"

"No, I think Ruby has a point." Mary Margaret squinted, pursing her lips in contemplation. Ruby looked proud of herself. "Regina was obviously not amused by your words. So, the only thing you can do, really, is to act normal, be your lovely self and give her all the space that she needs. Show her that you didn’t take on the business just to woo her."

"Jesus, is that what she thinks now?" Emma’s eyes widened in shock.

"Well, in case that she does." Both of her friends nodded in agreement.

"How did I get myself into this mess?" Emma accepted another beer and opened it.

"You just can’t help the gay." Ruby smirked. Mary Margaret swatted her arm.

"Well, she _is_ gorgeous." Emma said, feeling a little bit better already.

"You’re hopeless." Ruby laughed, but saluted her with her beer.

"You know me, I can’t do anything the easy way."

"Obstacles are only meant to be overcome. When I met David, he was seeing someone else," Mary Margaret suddenly blurted, taking a sophisticated sip from her beer.

"What?" Emma and Ruby exclaimed in unison, fixing their gazes at their now blushing friend.

"Yes, got rid of that tramp in no time."

Ruby and Emma blinked. Then they simply burst out laughing, their cackles bouncing off the walls of Emma’s small apartment, causing her next-door neighbor eventually bang on the wall in order to shut them up.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**


	4. Chapter 4

_\---_

_Somehow, the night sky had never been quite as bright, as vibrant, as it was at that moment. Alissa regarded the vast valley spreading before her, the edges of her father’s kingdom just visible in the horizon. It all could’ve been hers, one day; since she’d been very young, Alissa had been raised to be the queen her people deserved._

_Shamefully, she’d disregarded all of that._

_The guilt Alissa felt grew smaller and smaller each day, though, proving that she’d made the right decision. Alissa had a destiny which did not involve prancing around in a ball gown and pretending to be happy. She leaned against the tree behind her and sighed._

_A hand offering a steaming hot mug of tea came into view, and Alissa looked up, surprised. Remi was observing her, her brow slightly crooked. Alissa accepted the offered beverage, watching as the other woman gave a small nod and retreated back to their makeshift campsite. She’d come to rely on and trust Remi during the weeks they’d already trekked together, which was something she wasn’t used to._

_The words of her beloved grandmother suddenly sounded in her head: “Trust. Trust is a fickle thing. It can bring down kingdoms and empires. But, when aimed correctly, it can also change lives and the world for the better.”_

_Tearing her eyes away from Remi, Alissa felt a peculiar, strangely comforting warmth spread through her. She decided to ignore the fact that it probably was not entirely due to the tea._

_\---_

For the past hour, Emma had been glancing at the clock at two-minute intervals, her stress level rising with every new peek. It was the morning of the grand opening and, for the first time since getting the ridiculous idea of running her own bookshop, Emma doubted her sanity. What if she failed in her attempt and was forced to close the shop after only a few months? Regina would look at her with pity, and Ruby would be all ‘I told you so’. But, most of all, she would be forced to admit, once again, that she was a total failure. 

Tapping her fingers against the countertop, Emma looked at the clock on the wall – again. 

"Goddammit," she cursed, taking a deep breath.

She would succeed. She would, one day, have the most successful bookshop in Boston, doubts and nerves be damned! She was _right_ where she was supposed to be; her work was to be around books all day – if that wasn’t a dream come true, she didn’t know what was. And, in terms of the opening, she’d done the best she could, advertising the shop wherever she was able to, telling everyone to tell everyone they knew. There was a big sign at the window, declaring the rebirth of the shop.

Emma was fucking prepared.

The hand of the clock reached twelve, and Emma turned the lock, her hand trembling just a smidgen. Lastly, she flipped the sign on the door that now read ‘open’, welcoming all passers-by to step inside. Standing behind the counter, she fidgeted, her eyes glued to the door, willing it to open, willing it to turn her life around.

It was ten past when the bell jingled for the first time, nearly making Emma jump. Recovering fast, she smiled at her very first customer and went to offer her assistance, the earlier nervousness long forgotten.

During the course of the day, there was an even flow of people, with an occasional quiet moment when Emma was able to just marvel at what she’d made happen all by herself. Ruby made a short stop during her patrol, and Mary Margaret stopped by on her lunch break.

The clock was nearing three when the bell chimed once more. Emma was just helping an elderly woman to find the perfect children’s book for her granddaughter’s birthday, so she only hastily glanced at the door before returning back to the task at hand. Only then it registered with her that it was actually Regina who was standing in the middle of the shop, looking around cautiously. Nearly missing what the customer commented, Emma forced herself to concentrate on hunting down the perfect book and, eventually, suggested _Hippos Go Berserk_.

"Oh, that looks absolutely wonderful, dear!" the woman gushed, immediately agreeing that the book was exactly what she was after.

Emma slipped the purchase in a small, paper bag and accepted the cash from the woman. She held up the handles of the bag for her, smiling as the woman thanked her profusely.

"Have a nice day, ma’am." Emma watched her go, suddenly realizing that, with the swing of the door, she would be left alone in the shop with Regina. She swallowed nervously.

_Act like nothing happened._

"Congratulations, Miss Swan. Seems like some people have actually wandered in here today." Regina’s voice was cool and collected, and Emma couldn’t help feeling a sense of loss – even if they’d never gotten past the random acquaintances phase in the first place.

"The day has actually exceeded my expectations," Emma said, suddenly needing to defend herself.

"Hmmh," Regina uttered, still eyeing the shop.

"Satisfied?" Emma asked nervously, but her voice was still tinted with pride.

"It’ll do, I suppose."

The blonde shook her head, unnoticed by Regina. Would it kill her to give a proper compliment once in a while? Had the situation been different, Emma would’ve made a snide remark herself, but, alas, it wasn’t. She felt like she was walking on eggshells around the other woman, which was something she definitely wasn’t used to, not with anyone.

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee, or something?" she then inquired, practically fidgeting. "I’ve learned to whip up a mean cappuccino." 

"I’m good, thank you."

"Okay," Emma muttered. "So, um, I need to make an order soon, to fill the shelves and maybe reconsider what types of books we want to sell. Do you have a preference on what I order?"

Regina shrugged. "Anything goes. I don’t really have an opinion, one way or the other."

"Really?" Emma was shocked. "Not even a teeny-tiny opinion?"

"None." Regina was now looking at her, slightly bored. "I don’t really see the purpose of books per se. Fiction, that is. And yes, I do realize the certain irony in the fact that I now own a bookshop." She rolled her eyes for emphasis.

"_What_?" Emma knew her eyes were the size of saucers. 

"What?" Regina blinked, confused.

"You don’t understand the purpose of books?" Emma repeated Regina’s earlier words and thought she’d have a heart attack.

"Well, maybe _purpose_ was the wrong choice of a word, but I don’t see why I’d spend my money on processed trees in order to read about things that aren’t real."

"But… But books are everything. Fiction is everything!" Emma leaned over the counter to make a point. "Books are essentially the conscience of mankind. Fiction can tell you things you never knew about yourself, or were too afraid to acknowledge. They can make you laugh, or cry, they can make you _think_. Books can save your life."

"Save your life?" Regina seemed amused and somewhat underwhelmed by Emma’s sudden outburst.

"They did mine." Emma met Regina’s gaze, challenging. This time, it was Regina who looked away first. "Anyway, what I took from all this is that I can order any books I like?"

"Go for it." Regina pulled on her black leather gloves again, obviously preparing to make an exit.

"Roger that." Emma already had a hundred ideas. "I would like to meet with you every now and again, though. Maybe every two or three weeks, to go over the business side of things."

"Fine," was the reply, though Regina looked like she’d rather do pretty much anything else.

"Is next Wednesday all right?" Emma tried not to let her own, sudden annoyance towards Regina show.

"Yes, sure." With an impatient sigh, Regina looked at Emma once more. "Well, until Wednesday – if you manage to keep this place open until then."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Very funny. I’ll see you then."

The door swung shut, and she was left alone with her thoughts. She didn’t get Regina, she really didn’t. The other woman seemed to be so closed off from the world that it was basically impossible to even scratch the surface. Emma had no idea how Regina actually felt about the shop, or her running it, or, really, Emma _herself_.

Goddammit, she was going to make Regina like her – even if it was the last thing she did.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

Their first "business meeting" was over in less than ten minutes. Regina not-so-patiently listened what Emma had to say, only to agree with every suggestion she might’ve had. She also simply nodded at Emma’s intricate budget report, although she’d totally slaved over it (for fuck’s sake, she had even tried learning _Excel_ and nearly cried herself to sleep over the goddamn spreadsheets). Before Emma had time to collect her thoughts, Regina had already left. Lowering her head to the counter, Emma groaned in frustration.

_That woman is fucking impossible._

The next two meetings went along in a very similar pattern, though Emma was able to at least get a few opinions out of the other woman. It was the fourth time when she actually got Regina to stop in her tracks by showing the sales figures of the first two months.

"Is this…before the expenses?" Regina eyed the paper Emma had thrust in her hands.

"No, after."

"Oh." Regina blinked, for the first time showing interest in anything related to the shop. Emma could tell Regina was genuinely surprised, and she mentally patted herself on the back.

Truly, Emma was immensely proud of herself. After ardently reading through it multiple times, the pages of _Starting a Business for Dummies_, her personal Bible, were now completely worn out, the edges of the cover slightly ripped in places. She had managed to significantly increase the sales, compared to when Mr. Mills had run the business. In all likelihood, the coffee machine would also pay itself back in the next couple of weeks.

Within a few months, Emma had somehow succeeded in creating a bookshop which was a personal alternative to the big book store chains, and it attracted all sorts of customers. She couldn’t quite remember the last time she’d had a proper day-off, as she was usually doing something shop-related even when at home, but she didn’t mind. The results of her hard work were gradually beginning to flourish.

When it came to Regina, it seemed like the rather astonishing success of the shop made her more interested in it, which, in turn, delighted Emma. She was, frankly, tired of making every single decision by herself, but with the growing sales, Regina began showing more involvement, and their originally biweekly meetings had turned into weekly ones.

"I think we should increase our selection to include some genres more prominently in the shop," Emma mused one Wednesday evening—their silently agreed business meeting day—and carefully poured foamed milk on top of a shot of espresso. She tried to make a leaf-like pattern on top, but messed up at the last second, ending up with a bizarre mess of white and brown. "Dammit," she muttered to herself, irate at losing her concentration.

"What do you have in mind?" Regina asked, sat at the small table which had become a popular spot for the customers to relax. Emma placed the botched cappuccino in front of her, which earned a surprised glance from the older woman.

"I’m practicing," Emma explained simply and shrugged. "Don’t tell me you don’t drink coffee," she then added as an afterthought.

"I do," Regina said, picking up the cup and studying the failed decoration on top.

"Not a word," Emma warned, narrowing her eyes, before returning to the coffee machine for a new try. "Anyway, I was thinking of fantasy."

"Fantasy?" Regina repeated, and Emma could hear she was not convinced.

"Yes, fantasy. Our selection on that front is really pathetic at the moment, and we might be able lure in younger people with that as well."

"I know you’ve, against all odds, managed to keep this sinking ship from, well, sinking. But fantasy? That’s children’s literature," Regina scoffed, taking a sip from the cappuccino. Fortunately for Emma, she didn’t miss the look of pleasure on the other woman’s face at the taste of it. The look was gone as quickly as it had appeared, though.

"How’s the cappuccino?" Emma asked innocently.

"It’ll do."

"Uh-huh." Emma turned to the Marzocco again and secretly smirked. "Anyway, as I was saying, fantasy is something we should invest in. It’s not all aimed for teens, you know."

"You’re truly going with that?" Regina was beginning to sound exasperated.

"Trust me."

"Trust you?"

Emma turned fully to Regina now. "_’Trust. Trust is a fickle thing. It can bring down kingdoms and empires. But, when aimed correctly, it can also change lives and the world for the better,’_” Emma quoted.

Regina stared at her. She blinked once, twice. "Excuse me?" she finally uttered.

"Nothing, it’s a quote from this fantasy book series I love. Just to prove my point that it’s not all for kids," Emma chuckled. "The point is you should trust me on this."

Regina was still staring at her, so much so that Emma began to feel nervous. "Well, you’re the expert," she finally considered, her voice only a tad mocking, which Emma decided to ignore.

"I was also thinking of having an event next month, celebrating fantasy literature. That way we could brand ourselves more towards the genre."

"Oh?" Regina frowned, taking another sip from the cappuccino. Emma didn’t miss the appreciative nod Regina obviously didn’t think she saw.

"Yes, fantasy is popular, so having some sort of an event would draw in people. We could even try and get some authors to come in."

Regina blinked, her lips pursed. Whenever she had that look, Emma had no clue what she was about to say next, because it could be anything. Acing the new decorating attempt, Emma took her own cappuccino and placed it on the table as well. Pulling up the other chair, she took a seat at the table.

"Well, I suppose the number of fantasy books could be taken up a notch. I’m not sure about your ‘event’, though."

_One out of two, could be worse,_ Emma pondered and began persuading Regina.

"I’m telling you, when it comes to fantasy, for example the book I quoted from, it’s a huge deal. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not the new Harry Potter, but believe me; people will flock to the shop if we could get some sort of an author event happening. The series is immensely popular."

"I’m just not conv-," A sound of a ringing phone stopped Regina, mid-argument. Digging into her purse, Emma watched Regina peer at the display, a flash of concern passing over her features. "I need to take this." She stood up abruptly, stalking a few steps away. 

"Sure." Emma eyed Regina curiously.

"Hi, is everything all right?" The worry in Regina’s voice was obvious. "What? Like, right now? You know I’m in the middle of a business meeting." Emma bit her lip. Regina made it sound like their little shop was a multimillion-dollar company on top of The Hancock. "Fine. Just drop him here. The meeting probably won’t take long anymore anyway."

Emma listened to the one-sided conversation, now with intrigue. With a frustrated sigh, Regina turned around, tapping the phone against her thigh.

"Everything all right?"

"Yes, quite." Regina seemed to ponder something for a moment before making her way back to the table. "Well, Miss Swan, it seems you will be meeting my son," she said with a hint of apprehension in her voice. 

"Your…_what_ now?" Emma practically squawked.

"My son."

"You…you have a son?"

"Yes, I do."

"I d-, I didn’t know you have a son."

"Well, how could you, since I never told you?" Regina seemed frustrated with her now. "Are you able to handle a child, Miss Swan?"

Emma realized she hadn’t blinked in a while. "Yes," she finally blurted, trying to shake off the shock. "Yes, of course I can."

It wasn’t very long until a white Mercedes pulled up to the curb in front of the bookshop. Emma could briefly see a blonde woman behind the wheel, but she was effectively blocked by Regina who leaned down to talk to her through the open window. While the two women were discussing, a brown-haired boy hopped down from the back seat and immediately made his way to Regina, the latter taking his hand. Emma watched, fascinated, as Regina turned into someone completely different with the little boy; she’d never seen Regina smile before, but she truly did now. It was a radiant smile that reached her eyes, full of motherly love (Emma refused to acknowledge the dull ache at the pit of her stomach for witnessing something she’d never had), and Emma wasn’t sure if the other woman had ever looked more beautiful. 

With a final nod, Regina turned to the shop with the child, the car soon speeding away into the evening traffic. Emma stood up, suddenly feeling terribly nervous to meet the person who was obviously the most important thing in Regina’s life. They came to stand before her, the little boy clinging to his mother’s side, his eyes darting around the shop in wonder until shyly peering up at Emma.

"Miss Swan, this is my son, Henry." Regina’s arm was protectively around him. "Henry, this is Miss Swan."

"Hi, Miss Swan," he piped up, pressing even closer to Regina.

"Nice to meet you, Henry. Please, call me Emma." Emma smiled warmly. "How old are you, kid?"

"Five," he mumbled. Emma thought his shyness was absolutely adorable.

"Five? I thought you’d be at least eight." Emma feigned shock. Henry giggled, shaking his head. Emma chanced a glance at Regina and was greeted with curious eyes looking at her. She understood why it might come as a surprise that she was good with kids, but she always had been. "Say, Henry, do you like cookies?"

The little boy immediately perked up. "Yes."

"Hmm… But you probably don’t like chocolate chip ones, right?"

"Yes, I do!" He let go of his mother for the first time since entering the shop.

"Really? I do, too!" Emma leaned down, giving her full attention to the boy. "Would you _maybe_ like to have one? If your mom lets you, of course." Emma looked up at Regina, asking for permission.

"Please, mom! Can I?" His eyes were full of hope, and Emma held her breath, waiting for Regina’s verdict. 

Regina shook her head, clearly unable to resist the puppy dog eyes aimed at her. "All right. But just one." 

Henry squealed in delight and turned to Emma in expectation. She grinned and winked at the boy.

Henry was happily munching on his cookie while the women went through the rest of the paperwork. He was hopping excitedly between the shelves, careful not to touch anything as his mother had admonished him for it earlier.

"You sure won him over quickly," Regina mused, surprise clearly written on her face as Henry came to thank Emma for the cookie. Emma wasn’t entirely sure if Regina’s comment was meant as a compliment, or if the other woman felt somehow insecure about how fast Emma had made friends with the child.

"I’ve always liked kids," Emma explained, collecting the various documents before them in a neat pile.

"Well, thank you for making an effort, Miss Swan." It might’ve been the most genuine comment Emma had ever heard from Regina. She looked at her, surprised. "He doesn’t…always connect with people. He doesn’t have many…friends." Regina’s eyes followed her son bouncing around the shop.

"You’re welcome," Emma said quietly. "He seems like a fantastic kid." She really meant it.

"He is." A proud smile graced Regina’s lips until she seemed to snap out of it, realizing that Emma’s eyes were on her. "Anyway, we really should get going. It’s getting late."

Emma watched as Regina helped Henry put his coat back on, the scarf around his neck nearly swallowing his head until Regina pulled it down a little. He waved goodbye to Emma and took his mother’s offered hand. With a nod to Emma, Regina pulled his son towards the exit.

"I really like Emma" was the last thing Emma heard before the door closed behind the pair, making her chuckle.

_One point to Emma Swan._

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**


	5. Chapter 5

\---

_"You’re holding it wrong." Remi’s disinterested voice carried over to Alissa, making the bow in her hands waver._

_She decided to ignore her, drawing the string further and aiming the arrow at a nearby tree. She missed the mark by several feet._

_"Told you."_

_Alissa whirled around, eyes blazing. "Well, if you’re such an expert, feel free to demonstrate."_

_As if she’d been waiting for her chance, Remi snatched the bow, and, in a flawless motion, aimed and delivered a perfect bullseye. Alissa frowned, her hands balling in tight fists despite herself. Remi’s annoying snigger rang in her ears as she, very unceremoniously, stormed out of the campsite._

__

__

_Goddamn brute!_

\---

After the first time, Henry, little by little, became a regular participant in their Wednesday evening meetings, and Emma didn’t mind at all. Not only was Henry an adorable 5-year-old, but Regina came out of her shell more around him, which Emma found downright captivating. She truly was a different person with him, and Emma could clearly see that there was a whole different side to the woman besides the cool-and-collected which Emma had mostly been around to witness. Emma found herself eagerly waiting for Wednesday evenings; those days, she was already biting her nails in anticipation around noon. And when it was 6pm sharp, the bell above the shop door would jingle, and Regina would step in, preceded by a whirlwind named Henry who sprinted in, excited to be in the shop again.

Used to their weekly routine, Emma wasn’t at all prepared when the familiar brunette made an appearance one Saturday morning, Henry in tow. She completely missed what the customer in front of her was asking, her eyes glued to the unexpected pair that was now standing in the middle of the shop.

"I’m sorry?" She forced herself to concentrate on the man before her.

"Could I have a bag for this?" He repeated and indicated the book in his hand.

"Yes, of course." She fumbled with the bag, but finally managed to hand it over. Wishing him a good day, she was finally able to turn to her surprise visitors. "Everything all right?" She automatically assumed something was up, since Regina didn’t seem like the kind of person who would easily deviate from a routine. "Hi, kid," she added then, grinning at the boy who was grinning right back. 

"I would like to ask you for a favor." Regina looked somewhat hesitant.

"Fire away."

"I have a meeting at noon, and the person who usually takes care of Henry just called in sick, so I was wo-,"

"He can stay here during your meeting." Emma nodded immediately, resulting in an excited shriek from Henry.

"Are you sure?" Emma found it amusing that Regina still didn’t look convinced, although she’d just asked for the favor herself. If she were honest, Emma was ridiculously flattered Regina had thought of her.

"Of course, I am. We’re going to have fun, aren’t we, little man?" Emma ruffled Henry’s hair affectionately, earning an excited giggle from him. "Seriously, Regina. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of him."

"All right. Thank you."

"Anytime."

"I’ll pick him up as soon as I’m done with the meeting."

"We’ll be here."

"And be careful with the sugar, I don’t want him all hyped up."

"Got it."

With a final, doubtful look at Henry, Regina nodded, gave him a hug and stepped out of the shop, leaving the other two alone.

"So, Henry. What would you like to do?" Emma smiled at the pure excitement radiating from the boy.

"I don’t know, but can I have a cookie while we decide?" The question was so innocent that Emma couldn’t help but laugh.

**OuaTOuaTOuaTOuaT**

"And what does he say?" Henry pointed to a cartoon elephant which was doing a whimsical dance on the page of a children’s book he was leafing through.

"He says, ‘It is a good day for a dance’," Emma replied patiently, just like she’d done during every other page of the book so far. After ten pages it was starting to get slightly tedious, but the boy sitting on her lap was showing no signs of boredom. "Say, kid, how would you like to be able to tell yourself what the animals are saying?"

"Ooo! Yes!"

_Thank God_. The boy was swaying with excitement, and Emma had to hold on to him a little tighter to keep him from falling off. 

"All right then." Emma nodded. "First, you need to know…" She paused for an effect. "The alphabet!"

"I already do!" Henry beamed and proceeded to sing the alphabet song. Emma couldn’t help grinning.

"Well, you’re nearly an expert then already!" The pride radiating from Henry was almost tangible.

For the next half an hour, they spelled out easy words from the book, singing the alphabet song whenever there was a difficult letter. They were just in the middle of another round of the song when the shop door opened and a slightly out-of-breath Regina stepped in. She came to a halt, her mouth agape, when her eyes landed on the sight before her.

"Mom!" Henry yelled and ran to Regina excitedly. "Mom! We’re singing the alphabet song to see what the chicken is saying!"

"Are you now?" Regina peered down at her son, and Emma could’ve laughed out loud at the perplexed look on her face.

"Emma is helping me if there’s a difficult bit," Henry informed her still incredulous mother.

"He’s quite a pro already, though." Emma winked at the boy, making him beam even more.

"I’m very proud of you, Henry," Regina managed, still clearly taken aback by the obvious excitement on her son’s face. "Go and get your coat, dear, while I chat with Miss Swan."

They watched as Henry sprinted into the back room.

"Thank you, for looking after him," Regina said genuinely.

"Seriously, it wasn’t a problem. He’s a wonderful kid." Emma smiled, gathering the various books they’d “read” off the table. "You’re welcome to bring him here anytime."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

They both turned when Henry emerged again, not quite succeeding in pulling on his coat. After Regina’s help, they were finally ready to go.

"Bye, Emma!" Henry grinned again so radiantly that Emma thought her heart would burst.

"See you, kid."

"Until Wednesday, Miss Swan."

"Until Wednesday, Madam Mills." Emma couldn’t help the little jab, causing Regina to shoot daggers at her. This made Emma grin even wider.

They were almost out of the door when Emma heard Henry’s quizzical voice pipe up: "Why do you call Emma ‘Miss Swan’?"

Emma missed the other woman’s reply, but the faint blush creeping up her cheeks was all Emma needed for her eyes to sparkle just a tad brighter.

**OuaTOuaTOuaTOuaT**

It was a couple of “reading” lessons later when Emma approached the subject she’d been wondering ever since she first met Henry. It was their regular weekly business meeting (Emma still mentally guffawed at _that_) which was, interestingly enough, every week less and less about business and more and more about them just sitting at the corner table with cappuccinos, talking about nothing and everything, while a five-year-old ran around them. Well, it was perhaps more about Emma trying to snoop around and find out things about Regina and Henry’s life, and Regina shooting her down with a snide remark or a dramatic eye roll – though, Emma found them less mean-spirited than they once were. 

It was precisely for the somewhat existent rapport they’d reached, why Emma dared to venture into this particular line of questioning.

"Did you raise Henry all by yourself?" Emma asked, watching Henry play with a toy airplane on the other side of the shop. From the corner of her eye, she saw Regina look at her sharply.

"Why?" The fingers around Regina’s coffee cup tightened just a little.

"I was just wondering. Henry never mentions anyone."

Regina was quiet for a while, and Emma thought she would go down the usual ignoring-the-question route, but, finally, she spoke: "There’s just me."

"Oh?" Emma couldn’t help prodding further. Regina’s wary eyes landed on her. "I’m sorry; it’s none of my business."

"You’re absolutely right about that, Miss Swan," Regina mused, but her words lacked the acerbic undertone which would’ve stopped Emma from asking any more questions. "He’s adopted," the brunette suddenly uttered, drinking the last of her cappuccino in one gulp.

Emma blinked, surprised at the personal revelation.

"That’s great," she finally murmured, and it was Regina’s turn to look curiously at her. "I was in the foster system for years," she clarified, shrugging.

It was still difficult to admit; people tended to watch her differently once they knew, with pity and fake-understanding in their eyes, and Emma hated it. But when she caught Regina’s eyes again, there was nothing but something akin to respect in them.

"He’s wonderful," Regina added to no one in particular, a small smile playing on her lips. Emma watched, enchanted, as the other woman’s demeanor changed the moment Henry ran to them, showing how he flew his toy plane.

"He’s lucky to have you as his mother," Emma said sincerely as the boy had run away again, and she was rewarded by a faint blush that crept up Regina’s neck.

"Thank you."

"So, how did you end up-," Emma began, but was quickly cut off by Regina.

"Do quit while you’re ahead, Miss Swan." It was said in a serious manner, but there was a smidgen of mirth in Regina’s voice.

"Hmmph, fine." 

"Are you sulking now?" Regina gave a small chuckle, something Emma had never been privy to witness before. She really wanted to hear it again.

"Are you actually surprised? You’re, well, kind of a mystery." Emma huffed almost impatiently.

"A mystery?" Now there was an amused smile on her lips, the most unguarded smile Regina had ever aimed at Emma, and the blonde was hopelessly spellbound by it.

"Regina, you didn’t even tell me your name the first time we met," Emma offered, raising her eyebrow meaningfully. "You left me hang out to dry!"

"I suppose I did," Regina murmured, shrugging nonchalantly.

With the grace of a queen, Regina stood up, then, signaling the end of their meeting. And, just like that, Emma was, yet again, left with more questions than answers.

With a sigh, she leaned back in her chair, wondering why exactly she so desperately wanted to know who Regina Mills, the _real_ Regina Mills, was.

**OuaTOuaTOuaTOuaT**

It was a Tuesday, a few weeks later, when Regina set up shop (so to speak) at the corner table. Emma was chatting with a customer when she suddenly saw her boss enter, a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. Without as much as a glance at her bewildered employee, Regina made her way to the table, took out her laptop and began writing.

"Regina?" Emma frowned, making her way over once she was done at the counter.

"Morning," Regina gave a small nod and went back to whatever it was she was doing.

And that was that.

Emma blinked a few times, sparing one last, baffled look at the brunette before going back to her own work. She eyed Regina suspiciously on regular intervals, but the other woman simply stared at the screen in front of her, typing away in concentration. The only time she acknowledged Emma was when she asked if she could get a cappuccino, and Emma suddenly wanted to whip up the best damn cappuccino she’d ever made.

And that was how Regina basically moved her office from, well, wherever the hell it’d been before, to Emma’s bookshop (fine, it was technically Regina’s, but Emma had long ago started to think of it as at least _theirs_). The days when Regina wasn’t there were rarer than those that she was – and Emma realized she didn’t mind it.

Regina never once commented on the affairs of the shop (besides vetoing the fantasy author event), and Emma trusted that she wasn’t being supervised. Not that she needed supervision: the business was booming, the numbers better than ever, and she was still able to significantly raise the overall profit of the shop each month. Suddenly, she’d been in charge of the matters for six months, and not once had Regina wanted to reconsider their business arrangement.

No, Emma didn’t mind at all that Regina was now a permanent fixture of the shop’s interior. The fact that actual customers weren’t able to use the reading nook the way she’d originally intended seemed to be irrelevant to her and to her boss.

"Care for a cup of coffee?" Emma waited patiently for a reply one morning, and, eventually, Regina gave an absentminded nod.

By now, Emma knew better than to persistently ask for the same thing over and over again; Regina gave a reply when she was ready.

Emma was just about to get the coffee brewing when the door of the shop was opened with a tiny bit more force than necessary, drawing her attention to the figure now standing in the middle of the space. Emma froze when the situation registered with her: a frantic, ski masked man was standing in front of her, a gun in his hand. He peered around the room, and once he had established who he was up against, Emma found herself peering down the barrel of a Glock 22.

From the corner of her eye, Emma saw that Regina had leaped from her seat and was now pressed against a bookshelf, afraid to move.

"Give me the money from the register!" The hand that was holding the gun was shaking, just slightly, and the eyes behind the mask were almost glossed over. _A junkie_. Emma glanced at the gun, then at the lanky man, and at the gun again. When she didn’t immediately answer, the robber turned the gun at Regina. "Open the register, or I will shoot her!"

Emma chanced a look at the other woman and could see the brunette’s face blanch. Their eyes met, and Emma could practically hear Regina’s voice in her head: _Just give him the fucking money!_ Crossing her arms in front of her, she turned back to the man whose hand was now shaking even more.

"No," she finally stated, looking him dead in the eye. She could hear Regina inhale sharply.

"I will shoot her!"

"No, you won’t."

"What?" His hand was now trembling so much that it was obviously difficult for him to keep his aim straight.

"You won’t shoot her. The same way you won’t shoot me, either." Emma took a few steps closer to the intruder.

"Emma, what the _hell_ are you doing?" She could hear Regina’s voice rise with panic, but she didn’t take her eyes off the man who was now clearly weighing his options.

It briefly registered at the back of Emma’s mind that Regina had dropped the ‘Miss Swan’ act, and she was pissed it’d happened because of the moron in front of her and she couldn’t properly appreciate it.

"You won’t shoot anyone, because we both know that the gun you’re pointing at me is a fake." The man squeezed the weapon harder, but the tremble intensified. "And if you even consider attacking her, you know I will be on you before your filthy hands even touch her."

They stared at each other, as if in a duel, and by the way his eyes flashed with trepidation, Emma knew she was going to win. That’s why she was actually expecting it when the man lunged forward, ditching the gun in the process. With the grace of an ex-police officer, Emma grabbed his hand and effortlessly twisted it behind his back, making him yelp in pain. A strategically placed knee-kick later, he was lying on his stomach, Emma’s knee pressing him down and effectively keeping him there.

"Goddamn amateurs," Emma muttered, pressing down just a little bit harder and making the man wail in pain. Leaning over, she pulled off the corny ski mask and let out a swearword, or two, herself. "Stevenson? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Every cop in Boston knew the man, a small-time criminal who usually didn’t have the best of ideas when it came to scoring money. Emma herself had lost count on how many times she’d come across the guy during her years in blue.

"You’re hurting me!" he protested weakly, his face contorted in pain when Emma let her knee push into his back yet a tad more.

Ignoring the scrawny excuse of a man under her, Emma glanced up at Regina and found the other woman still almost comically pressed against a shelf, eyes wide and breathing irregular.

"You all right?" Emma asked gently, annoyed that she couldn’t get up and actually go to Regina. When her question went unanswered, she tried again: "Regina, look at me." Hearing her name seemed to do the trick, and slightly unfocused eyes found Emma’s. "There you are. Are you all right?"

Regina didn’t seem to find words, and a faint nod was the only reply Emma got. She happily took it. Reaching for her back pocket, Emma took her phone. "I’m going to call for help. Are you going to be okay while I do that?"

Another nod.

Satisfied by the answer, Emma chose Ruby from her phone’s contact list and waited for her best friend to answer.

"Ruby, you won’t believe who just tried to fucking rob me."

The next half an hour was intense, with Ruby arriving with her partner, Neal, and another patrol coming over to take Stevenson to lock up. Ruby took Emma’s statement, rolling her eyes at the idiocy of the man as she was scribbling down her notes, while Neal bagged the toy gun as evidence. When she was done with the statement, Emma glanced at Regina who hadn’t really moved from her seat at the table.

"You should take Regina’s statement as well while you’re here," she suggested and saw recognition cross Ruby’s face as the officer realized who the other woman was. "Be nice," Emma muttered, sending a silent warning to her friend who rolled her eyes.

"Miss Mills?" Ruby smiled sympathetically as she took a seat at the other side of the table. "My name is Ruby, I’m a friend of Emma’s."

"Yes." Regina’s voice was slightly hoarse.

"Do you think you’d be able to give me a statement about what happened?" Ruby inquired, already flipping her notebook to a blank page.

"Sure." Regina cleared her throat and then raised her eyes to Emma. "I could really use that coffee you promised earlier. Maybe throw something stronger in there as well while you’re at it."

"Coming right up." Emma nodded and then, in a moment of unforeseen courage, she placed a hand on Regina’s shoulder. She felt the other woman momentarily tense under her touch. "Ruby here is an excellent cop; you’re in good hands."

She half expected a sarcastic retort, but it never came. At the least she assumed the brunette would slap her hand away. But, instead, the muscles under her hand relaxed, and Regina offered a small nod before turning fully to Ruby, suddenly all business. "Fire away, officer."

It took another half an hour for Ruby and Neal to wrap things up, and with a final promise to call her best friend soon, Emma found herself alone with Regina again. The other woman was still sat on the same chair, but the look on her face was not as bewildered as it had been. She began to resemble the Regina Emma knew.

"C’mon, Regina. I’ll drive you home," Emma said softly, daring to grab Regina’s laptop from the table and sliding it into its designated bag.

"No, I’m perfectly capable of driving myself," Regina bristled, and Emma was actually relieved to see this side of her again.

"I’m sure you are, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you behind the wheel right now." Emma’s tone left no arguments; it was her cop voice which she’d never used with the brunette before, and it seemed to do the trick just fine until they ventured outside, and Regina clamped her eyes on Emma’s bright yellow bug.

"Absolutely not."

"Regina, for God’s sake, get in the car."

"I am not getting into that sardine can!" Regina looked almost petulant, her arms crossed and brow knitted together.

"Fine, I’ll call Ruby and she can take you home in her patrol car." Regina’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Emma knew the victory was hers.

A moment later, she took a seat next to the brooding brunette and tried not to smirk too widely.

The drive was a silent one, apart from the occasional instruction Regina muttered to keep them on the right track. As they arrived at the right address, Emma was forced to do a double take, because her boss, apparently, lived in a goddamn mansion. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever known anyone who lived in such a house.

"Inherited, Miss Swan." Regina rolled her eyes, and Emma had the grace to blush.

"Sorry," the blonde said, abashed.

Still dumbfounded by the house, Emma hopped out and quickly made her way to open the car door for Regina who still sported a grim look. Absentmindedly, Emma realized how ridiculous her car looked in such an affluent neighborhood. 

"Will you be all right?" Emma asked, genuinely concerned when she watched Regina dig through her purse for keys. "Will Henry be getting home okay?"

"I’m fine." Regina sighed. "The bus will drop Henry off at two."

"Okay, good." She watched as Regina made her way towards the front door and nearly snorted when she realized that her apartment would probably fit into Regina’s foyer.

"Miss Swan?" Regina suddenly turned around, clutching the keys in her hand. "Thank you." For what exactly, Emma wasn’t certain, but she gladly took it.

"Of course." Emma smiled warmly.

A tiny part of her wished Regina would invite her in, so that she could maybe find out more about her mysterious boss. But, alas, she didn’t, and Emma hopped back in the driver’s seat as soon as she saw the door close behind the other woman.

"What a day," she sighed before checking the rearview mirror and pulling the car back on the road.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait between updates, life has been ridiculously hectic!
> 
> Also, I never watched OuaT past the first three seasons, and you can tell that from the characters who pop up in my fics. So, just a heads up, this is going to get old school.

_\---_

_The smell of something delicious filled Alissa’s senses as she slowly awoke from her sleep. The sun was already peeking through the branches, and the dew was clinging to the leaves and grass, which clearly meant she’d overslept. Suddenly completely awake, she shot up, hastily pulling on her coat._

_“Breakfast is ready,” Remi’s voice sounded behind her, and she whirled around._

_“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Rolling up her blanket with more force than necessary, she eyed Remi with slight irritation._

_“I tried, but it seemed like you needed the sleep.” The other woman shrugged and handed over a steaming hot cup of tea._

_Their eyes met, and, suddenly, Alissa found it really difficult to be mad. Blinking, she accepted the offered beverage and watched as Remi cooked them eggs and the rest of a hare she’d captured the day before._

_“Well, if you didn’t snore so much, I’d get more sleep during the night,” Alissa defended herself, earning an amused snort from the other woman._

_“Sweetheart, I’m not the one who snores.” Remi actually had the audacity to_ wink.

_At a loss for words, Alissa blamed the warmth spreading through her on the scalding hot tea._

\---

"That’s really good, Henry!" Emma praised, peering down at the paper on which the boy had managed to scribble down his whole name, completely on his own this time.

Henry beamed at the compliment and proceeded to write his name again, but with a different color marker this time. His feet dangled over the side of the chair as he concentrated on the job at hand, the small frown on his face almost comical. Emma grinned and was about to go back to the wonderfully fun task of inventory when her phone went off.

There was an absentminded smile playing on her lips when she saw that the caller was Regina.

At first, she’d thought that the little incident at the shop a few weeks earlier would’ve scared the other woman away, but, much to her pleasure, Regina had been back with her laptop only a few days later. They hadn’t really addressed what had happened, but, somehow, Emma felt Regina had been just a tiny bit more present afterwards.

"Hello, boss lady," Emma answered the call cheerfully and was met with an unamused sigh on the other end.

"Miss Swan, everything okay with Henry?" Regina swiftly refused to bite.

"Yes, he’s been learning how to write his name. He’s quite a professional already." Emma aimed another smile at the boy and was rewarded with a matching grin.

"I’m sure." Emma could hear the pride in Regina’s voice. "The reason I’m calling, my meeting is going to last longer than I anticipated. I won’t be able to pick him up at six as I promised."

"That’s fine; he can stay here as long as it takes."

"There’s no need. A friend of mine will pick him up, since we were supposed to meet up anyway." Emma could tell Regina wasn’t entirely pleased with the arrangement.

"Oh, all right."

"Her name is Kathryn, Henry knows her."

"Roger that."

"Thank you for watching Henry again," Regina then said, indicating that the call was coming to an end.

"Anytime. Will I see you tomorrow? I mean, will you be by the shop?" Emma mentally chastised herself for sounding just a tad too eager.

There was a long silence, and, for a moment, Emma thought she might’ve, yet again, taken a couple of steps back in their friendship. _Could one even call it a friendship yet?_ Emma was just as mystified by the whole thing as she’d been right after taking over the shop.

But then Regina replied: "Perhaps."

And that was that. The line went dead, and Emma was left staring at her phone, perplexed.

**OuaTOuaTOuaTOuaT**

It was a quarter to six when a tall, blonde woman entered the shop, and Emma instantly recognized her as the woman who’d driven the white Mercedes the evening when Emma had first met Henry.

"Aunt Kathryn!" Henry squealed and ran to hug the woman. She bent down to hug him back, and Emma felt a sliver of jealousy run through her, which was simply ridiculous.

_Aunt?_

"Hey, Henry!" The woman smiled brightly at the boy, and it was obvious that she cared about him. Her eyes finally landed on Emma as she straightened her posture again.

"Hi," Emma said, slightly nervous for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom.

"You must be Miss Swan. My name is Kathryn." Kathryn’s smile was a genuine one. "I’ve heard a lot about you."

"Not sure if I want to know," Emma chuckled, shaking the offered hand.

"Oh, believe me, when Regina talks about someone, it’s a good sign." Emma felt her cheeks color at that, somehow pleased that Regina had mentioned her to her…friend? Sister? It was slightly confusing, but she didn’t dare ask; it wasn’t her business anyway.

"I’ll take your word for it." Emma shook her head.

"Anyway, Regina probably let you know I’m picking Henry up."

"Yes, she called earlier."

"Emma’s helping me to know what the chicken is saying!" Henry piped up then, momentarily confusing Kathryn who decided to glance at Emma for guidance.

"We’ve been doing some reading." Emma shrugged as Henry sprinted to fetch the paper he’d been scribbling on earlier and showed it to the other woman.

"Look!" Henry proudly showcased his biggest achievement yet. "I want to show mommy, too."

"That’s wonderful, Henry," Kathryn praised him and turned to smile at Emma again who self-consciously scratched the back of her neck.

"You seem to have a wonderful effect on him." It was said with a genuinely impressed voice.

"He’s a wonderful kid," Emma said sincerely, smiling at Henry.

Sensing eyes on her, Emma looked up and saw Kathryn studying her curiously. She felt like she was being assessed, but for what, she didn’t have a clue.

"Regina told me about the robbery," Kathryn suddenly uttered.

Emma blinked.

"Ah, yes. Crazy. Good thing I know a thing or two about how to react in such situations."

"Phew." The other woman shook her head. "I’m glad you were here. How did you know the gun was a fake?" she then asked, intrigued.

"Well, I’ve stared down the barrel of a few real ones, so…" She suddenly felt bashful, not wanting to divulge too much of her past to someone who was, essentially, a complete stranger. "It was nothing."

"Hmmh." The scrutiny in Kathryn’s eyes was still present, and, for a small moment, Emma thought she was going to continue her semi-interrogation. In the end, however, the blonde only nodded and turned back to Henry again. "No wonder Regina trusts you with Henry," she said, seemingly to no one in particular. "Ready to head to mommy, kid?"

"Can Emma come, too?" The question was so adorably innocent that Emma wanted to hoist him up and squeeze him silly.

"I’d love to, kid, but I need to stay and close up the shop. I’ll see you again on Wednesday, though, all right?" Emma offered, moved by Henry’s childish earnestness.

"Okay." Kathryn helped Henry pull on his overcoat and then took his hand. "Bye, Emma." He waved.

"It was nice meeting you, Miss Swan." Kathryn said, and to Emma it sounded like she actually meant it.

"Likewise. And please, for the love of God, call me Emma." She chuckled, wondering why everyone had the need to address her like she was 50.

"Emma it is." Kathryn laughed before offering a final smile and stepping out of the shop with Henry.

Emma watched them go, wondering what exactly the relationship between Kathryn and Regina was. If they were sisters, their gene pool didn’t seem to match, hence Emma settled on ‘friends’. Nevertheless, she was intrigued, because she could’ve sworn she’d just gone through a test of some sort – and Emma had no idea if she’d passed or not.

**OuaTOuaTOuaTOuaT**

"The…ch-, chicken…r…ran across…the r…ro-ad." Henry’s eyes widened. "The chicken ran across the road!

"Oh, my God, Henry! That’s awesome!" Emma cheered, raising her hand in a high-five which Henry giddily reciprocated.

"The elephant is next!" The excitement in the boy was so palpable that Emma felt her heart flutter. She could still remember it herself, the utter elation of discovering the world of reading, and being able to immerse herself in the words on the page.

She was still smiling, half an hour later, when Regina stepped in, once again dressed immaculately in black slacks, light blue shirt and a perfectly fitted jacket. Emma thought she probably looked like a hobo next to her.

"I take it things are well," Regina noted, clearly aware of the happy look on the other woman’s face.

Emma grinned. She placed the last book from the recently delivered restock order onto the shelf and gestured towards Henry.

"We had a little breakthrough earlier, didn’t we, Henry?"

"Mom, I can read!" the boy practically squealed and ran to grab his mother’s hand. Dragging Regina along, he showed the animal book which he could now decipher almost entirely on his own.

"Henry, that’s wonderful." Regina smiled and, once again, Emma was spellbound by the utter pride and delight radiating from the other woman.

"He’s such a fast learner," Emma explained as she joined the pair at the table. Henry beamed up at her.

"Look, mom!" He pointed at the page with an owl on it. "T-the ou…owl sai…says wow and fl…flies aw-away." He looked up expectedly at Regina, his eyes searching for validation.

"I’m so proud of your, Henry." There was moisture in the corners of Regina’s eyes as she bent down and hugged him, and Emma realized this was probably the first time she’d seen such an obvious glimpse of the _real_ Regina, one without the walls erected around her. She felt privileged to witness it.

"Emma said I learned to read faster than she did!" Henry piped up once his mother released him, causing said woman to raise her eyebrow in an amused manner.

"Did she now?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Cue to the jokes about Emma being thickheaded."

She expected a snappy quip, or at least a half-hearted jab at her character (Regina seemed to love those above all), but all she got was a small chuckle and a headshake.

"I’m sure you still did fine, Miss Swan." She turned to smile at Henry again. "Just not as well as my little sweetheart." She pecked Henry on the cheek and the boy squirmed away, but his eyes were still shining with delight.

Perplexed by the unexpected semi-compliment, Emma cleared her throat and refused to acknowledge how badly _she_ wanted to be called a sweetheart by a certain someone. "Henry, why don’t you go and choose a new book for next time you come by."

Henry’s eyes widened with excitement. "Oh, maybe the hippo one!" He dashed directly to the children’s section, his mother and Emma already completely forgotten.

"I haven’t seen him that thrilled about anything in a while," Regina murmured, almost to herself.

"He really is talented. It was so easy to teach him."

"Thank you." Regina looked at Emma now, her face serious.

"You don’t have to thank me."

"I know."

A comfortable silence fell between them, the only sounds coming from Henry in a quest to find the perfect book. He finally emerged with the hippo book he’d been looking for.

"I want this one!" Emma found herself smiling again at the elation in his voice.

"Sure thing, buddy. Let me store it away, so no one will buy it." She wouldn’t sell the book even if someone offered her a million bucks.

"Perhaps, at some point, you could show him some options from the non-fiction section, hmm?" Regina quirked her eyebrow, a small hint of antipathy in her voice as she eyed the book Henry had chosen.

"Really, Regina? What is it with you and fiction?"

"There’s no harm in also learning while reading."

Shaking her head, Emma crossed her arms and turned fully to the other woman.

"I’ll make a deal with you. At some point, I’ll give him some fact options as well." Regina seemed satisfied. "_But_. Henry always makes the final decision. I don’t want to force him into anything, because that’s the quickest way to kill his enthusiasm."

A somber look crossed Regina’s face, but it was gone so quickly Emma nearly thought she’d imagined it. Before she could offer more arguments in favor of the deal, Regina nodded.

"All right, a deal then."

Emma couldn’t believe she got her way so easily.

"Come on, Henry. We should head home." Regina already had her hand on the door handle when she, all of a sudden, looked back at Emma. "Are you free on Thursday evening, Miss Swan?"

"Um, what?" Emma stammered. She mentally slapped herself for sounding like an idiot. "I mean, yes, I should be. Why?"

"Would you like to join me and Henry for dinner? As a thank you for, well, everything." It was the last thing she’d expected to hear.

"Dinner?"

"Yes." Regina rolled her eyes. "You do eat, don’t you?"

"Yes, I do! I do eat dinner." _For God’s sakes, Emma, shut up!_ "I mean, I would love to, yes."

"Right then. Is six o’clock okay with you?"

"Perfect."

"Don’t be late."

The familiar jingle sounded as the door opened and then closed again, leaving a slightly bewildered Emma standing in the middle of the store. Though, her confusion soon morphed into giddiness.

Dinner, huh? She liked the idea, she liked it a lot. A faint smile played on her lips as she prepared to close up the shop for the day.

Thursday couldn’t get around faster.

**OuaTOuaTOuaTOuaT**

The bar was starting to get busier as the clock neared 8pm on that Tuesday evening. It was mostly regulars, people Emma recognized, who came in after work to have a pint before heading home.

"I have to give you credit, though," Ruby stated, distracting Emma from her thoughts. The younger woman placed her half-drank beer on the counter and turned fully to Emma. "I totally expected you to go bankrupt in a month."

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," Emma said drily, but feeling pride bubbling within her for keeping the shop afloat and making it thrive, too.

"Well, you can’t really blame me; you’d never done anything even close to running a business before. I had the right to assume you’d gone insane."

"I suppose."

"That being said, you do look like you’re doing better in general, too." Ruby smiled, briefly placing her hand on Emma’s and squeezing.

"I am." Emma glanced at her friend and smiled, albeit slightly uncomfortably. She’d never been good at discussing that side of herself with anyone; she’d spent a good part of a year in therapy talking about _anything_ but the real reason she was there in the first place.

"I’m glad." Ruby knew better than to dwell on it, which is why she promptly moved on. "I know I sound like a broken record, but do you think you could come by the station soon? The guys are always asking for you."

Emma stared at her own beer, fiddling with the label of the bottle. "I’m not sure I’m ready yet," she finally admitted, accompanied by an annoyed sigh. It was stressful enough to meet Ruby here, at O’Malley’s, as it was a regular hangout spot for most of the cops of the C-6 precinct. 

"That’s all right."

"No, it really isn’t." Emma shook her head sadly. She took a swig from the bottle, almost angrily.

"No one is blaming you for anything," Ruby said quietly.

"I know. That almost makes it worse." Emma chuckled ruefully.

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Anyway, anything interesting on the dating front?" Ruby finally asked with a teasing voice, trying to pull Emma away from her gloomy ponderings. 

"Please, I’ve been running a very successful bookshop."

"Well, in that case, I have a brilliant suggestion. There’s this lovely girl, Aurora, in my spinning class who I think you’d hit it off with."

"Aurora?" Emma gave a short chortle.

"I know, right? Like the princess!" Ruby grinned. "Right up your alley."

"Oh, my God." 

"Please, tell me I can set you two up."

"Ruby, when has anyone described as ‘lovely’ been a good match to me?" Emma looked at her friend poignantly. "Besides, I don’t want a princess, I want a queen." She smirked, downing the last of her beer.

"Now that’s just cheesy." Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, Ruby. I have too much on my plate right now." She signaled the bartender for another drink.

"Fine, fine. But you really should have a life outside of the shop."

"I have a life," Emma said, exasperatedly. "I’m going to dinner on Thursday." She regretted the comment the moment it came out of her mouth, because she knew Ruby would jump on it like a shark.

"Oh, really?" Ruby wiggled her eyebrows. "No wonder you didn’t take up on my offer for a date then."

"It’s nothing like that. Regina invited me to have dinner with her and Henry."

"Regina?" Ruby gaped.

"Yes, as a thank you for the robbery and everything." Emma shrugged nonchalantly; she was desperately trying not to show how big of a deal she truly felt it was. Fortunately, a bottle of Heineken was placed in front of her.

"I can’t believe you’re choosing dinner with Ice Queen over a hot date with Aurora," Ruby said, unconvinced.

"Don’t call her that." Emma sighed and raised the bottle to her lips, completely missing the surprised look on Ruby’s face. "I appreciate the thought, Ruby, I really do. But I don’t feel like going on dates right now."

"Right." Ruby was still eyeing Emma curiously, enough for Emma to turn to her, slightly exasperated.

"What?"

"Nothing." Ruby shook her head. "I just…feel protective when it comes to you. You’re my best friend."

"And I appreciate it. I just…really don’t feel like dating at the moment."

"Ugh, you’re boring." Emma turned to her, causing Ruby to raise her hand. "And don’t tell me the bookshop makes you interesting, because it simply makes you a giant nerd."

"Fuck off." Shoving Ruby by the shoulder, Emma grabbed her beer and couldn’t help chuckling as her best friend downright cackled next to her.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

The week dragged along, and, for Emma, it felt like an eternity until Thursday finally rolled around. She glanced at the clock and saw that she still had time to get next week’s shipments in order before she had to go get ready for the very much anticipated dinner. Clicking on the intricate Excel spreadsheet she’d slaved over during the past months, she went through the stock and checked the items she ought to order. She was definitely running low on romance novels, of all things.

Emma was already so used to the little bell above the door that she didn’t immediately perk up when the familiar tingle sounded through the shop. Finishing the order for a new batch of cook books, she finally looked up from her laptop and saw a somewhat feeble-looking man with a cane curiously eyeing the space. Emma wasn’t sure why, but she immediately felt at edge, the general demeanor of the man making the hair at the back of her neck stand up. If her training as a cop had taught her anything, it was to recognize people who were suspicious.

"Can I help you with anything?" she offered, trying to muster up a pleasant smile.

"Oh, no thank you, deary." He was still not looking at her. "I’m simply admiring this little shop of yours."

Emma frowned, but tried to cool her features when the man’s eyes suddenly snapped to her. Yeah, she didn’t like him one bit.

"Feel free to do so." Emma knew her voice didn’t betray her true feelings; the years on the force had also taught her to keep her voice level and her features neutral.

The man limped around the shop, Emma following his careful movements from the corner of her eye. It felt like an eternity had passed when he finally made his way to the counter and regarded Emma with sharp eyes.

"It is, indeed, a charming little shop you have."

"Thank you."

"Not many small establishments, such as this one, make it in today’s economy."

"I’m hoping to be the exception." Emma knew the smile on her face looked forced, but the conversation was getting so strange, she wasn’t sure what to think.

"Hmm…" The man’s eyes narrowed as he peered at her. "Have you ever considered selling?"

Whatever Emma had thought the man’s motive was, it wasn’t that.

"No, I’m rather happy with the shop, I have to say. Besides, I have a business partner who would also be very disappointed if I considered giving this up.

"Oh?" That perked the man’s interest.

Emma knew that crossing her arms probably looked like a defense mechanism if there ever was one, but the man was seriously starting to creep her out. "I’m sorry, but who do I have the pleasure of talking to?"

The man produced a business card from his suit pocket and handed it over, his piercing eyes never leaving Emma. She took the card and glanced down, frowning when she saw his title.

_R. Gold  
CEO of Golden Books_

Emma recognized the book store chain immediately; it was a fairly big chain, one of the only ones around capable of fighting the ever growing influence of Amazon.

“Why would a significant player, such as yourself, be interested in my small shop?”

"Oh, I’m always looking to widen my horizons."

"Well, the shop isn’t for sale."

"Everything is for sale when the price is right. Or, if the situation is dire enough." He sounded nothing short of conceited, but before Emma was able to retort, he was already retreating towards the door. "Do let me know if you change your mind, dearie. Ta-ta."

And with that, he was gone, and Emma found herself grabbing the edge of the countertop, knuckles white.

**OuaTOuaTOuaTOuaT**


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slightly shorter chapter, just so that the following ones will line up more nicely.

_\---_

_"How did you end up…here?" Alissa asked one evening, holding her chilly hands up to the warmth of a fire Remi had lit a while earlier. The knife in the bandit’s hand suddenly stilled and she looked up, a small frown on her face._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Living in the forest." Alissa shrugged, hesitant to probe any further. "Seems like a life choice you didn’t exactly plan."_

_For a while, Remi only stared at her, thoughtfully, and Alissa fought the urge to squirm under the piercing gaze. But then the other woman turned her eyes away and picked up another piece of wood, continuing to chip away with her knife._

_"No, I did not plan this." Remi’s voice was laden with uncharacteristic wistfulness. "But, sometimes, life serves you cards you didn’t ask for, and you just have to make the most of it."_

_Alissa expected her to continue, but Remi stayed silent._

_"That’s it?" She asked incredulously. "That’s all you’re divulging?"_

_Remi looked at her as if there’d been nothing strange about her cryptic words. "Yes." She shrugged and, yet again, went back to whittling the stick in her hand._

_ "I don’t know why I bother." With an undignified huff, Alissa thrusted her hands closer to the fire, nearly burning her fingers in the process. Remi was, most certainly, the most annoying person she had ever had the displeasure of bumping into! _

_\---_

For the second time in as many weeks, Emma was parked outside of Regina’s house. Well, scratch that, it was a goddamn mansion, which is why Emma was fidgeting in her car, trying to build up the courage to actually approach the almost majestic building. When she couldn’t prolong the inevitable anymore, she took a deep breath, grabbing the two bottles of wine she’d bought—Mary Margaret had advised her to go down the more sophisticated route instead of beer—and a small plastic bag. Slowly making her way to the front door, she shoved the feelings of inadequacy and not belonging to the back of her mind.

"Emma!" The door was yanked open before Emma had time to ring the doorbell, and a beaming face of Henry peered up at her.

"Hey, kid." Emma instantly felt more grounded as Henry eagerly pulled her inside and slammed the door shut behind them. "Mom! Emma’s here!"

Regina, dressed immaculately, as always, in black slacks and white blouse this time, strolled through the door which Emma figured would lead into the dining room.

"Yes, Henry. And remember what we’ve talked about the indoor voice?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, still keeping a hold of Emma’s hand.

"Good evening, Miss Swan." There, in her own home, Regina seemed less intimidating, somehow. Emma was, once again, struck by the natural beauty of the woman, everything from her downright elegant jawline to the soft curls framing her face. "I’m glad you finally decided to leave your car."

_Christ_. Distracted from her musings, Emma felt her cheeks getting warm, but, thankfully, Regina seemed more amused than anything.

"Hi," she finally uttered. She gestured to the bottles of wine she was now hugging to her chest. "I wasn’t sure what you’re making, so… I brought red and white."

"Wine?" Regina seemed genuinely surprised.

"I can be classy, too, you know." Emma rolled her eyes, purposefully ignoring the small voice at the back of her mind that reminded her it was actually Mary Margaret who opted for the wine.

"Uh-huh." Regina took the bottles from her and then gestured towards the boy who was now patiently waiting for Emma to return her attention to him. "Henry wanted to show you his room; if you don’t mind." Her voice was slightly apologetic.

"Of course!" Emma smiled warmly at Henry. "But first." She reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a book. "This is for you."

Henry took the book reverently, his eyes going wide as she saw the title, Big Book of Dinosaurs. "Dinosaurs! Cool! Thank you, Emma."

"You’re welcome, little man." She ruffled his hair, sparing a quick glance at Regina who actually looked pleased with her choice of a book.

_Another score to Emma Swan!_

"So, kid, you wanted to show me something." Henry tore his eyes away from the book and immediately began leading them up the winding staircase – because of course there was a winding staircase. The last thing Emma saw before they reached the upstairs landing was Regina turning back to the kitchen, a soft smile on her lips. Emma felt her heart flutter.

After patiently listening to Henry for what must’ve been a half an hour, documenting the various action figures and Lego constructions in his room, Regina’s voice from downstairs finally informed them that dinner was ready.

And boy, what a dinner it was.

Regina was an exceptional cook (Emma was _almost_ irritated at how she seemed to be perfect in everything), and the blonde was practically inhaling the lasagna from her plate.

"This is so delicious," she muttered between bites, and there was an obvious, pleased tint of red coloring Regina’s cheeks.

All in all, the dinner was much more pleasant an experience than Emma had dared to expect. And as she later found herself in Henry’s bedroom, reading the new dinosaur book to him in order to get him to sleep (he’d been quite adamant that only Emma would do), it occurred to Emma that the old her, from before the book shop, would’ve bolted right about then. Because she absolutely didn’t _do_ domestic shit like Thursday night dinners and reading books to five-year-olds. In fact, she abhorred stuff like that, and by the first signs of commitment of _any_ kind (yes, she was still acutely aware of how completely out of Regina’s league she was, and this was hardly getting committed), she used to be out of the door in a flash.

But Regina and Henry were different; they made _her_ different. And as Emma saw Henry’s eyes slowly droop, sleep finally claiming him as she was rattling on about the ferociousness of velociraptors, it dawned on her that she actually, truly, wanted to be in that very moment, right there and then. And that scared her more than anything in a long, long while.

"What are you guys doing to me?" Emma murmured, brushing a lock of hair off Henry’s face and then quietly exiting the room.

She found Regina in the downstairs study, just getting off the phone with someone, a slight frown on her face.

"Is Henry asleep?"

"Out like a light. Everything all right?" Emma buried her hands in her jeans pockets, not entirely sure if she was allowed in the room or not; it was clearly Regina’s work space, with various accolades, books on politics and newspaper clippings strewn about.

"Ugh, there’s a meeting tomorrow at four which I, apparently, need to attend. I was supposed to pick Henry up from kindergarten already before that, but there’s no way I can take him to the meeting with me. And Kathryn can’t pick him up either." Regina pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"Regina, you know you only need to ask." Emma shrugged, daring to take a few steps into the study.

Regina studied her, in the way she always did when Henry was in question, and finally seemed to reach a decision, the tension in her shoulders easing up just a little.

"You’re taking my car. There’s no way I’m letting Henry in that tin can you call a car."

"It’s a good car! And I know it like the back of my hand; Henry will be fine."

Regina’s eyes narrowed, clearly not satisfied with the arrangement. But it was pretty obvious she had no choice in the matter, Emma being the only one available to get Henry.

"Okay, fine. But you’ll take the car seat; he’s not getting in your ‘car’ without it." Regina’s air quotes made Emma roll her eyes.

"Deal."

"Good." Regina’s posture clearly relaxed. “Anyway, would you like something to drink?” Regina inquired as she made a beeline to the liquor cabinet in the corner. ”I would offer my self-made apple cider, but I don’t want you committing a misdemeanor by driving home.”

“Aww, I knew you care.”

“Please, Miss Swan. Henry needs that ride tomorrow, and it won’t happen if I need to bail you out of jail first.”

Emma shook her head in amusement. “A soda would be fine.” As Regina popped back into the kitchen, the blonde made her way to the various frames on the wall. There were several framed newspaper articles as well as numerous diplomas and other fancy-looking certificates, and Emma had no idea what some of them even were about. It was all very prestigious-looking and went hand-in-hand with the rest of the house. Emma eyed the articles and finally recognized one.

“Hey, I read this, your take on the whole Yemen situation.” She turned to Regina who handed her a glass of coke. She offered a small smile.

Regina only raised her eyebrow questioningly, her eyes jumping from Emma to the article behind her.

“Oh, come on, Regina. As if you didn’t do a thorough background check on me as well,” Emma teased, knowing full well that Regina would never let anyone near Henry who she hadn’t vetted beforehand.

Regina let out a small harrumph, shrugging in a non-committed way, and Emma knew she was right.

“Well, thank you for the compliment. I have to admit, I am proud of that one.” The brunette sat in the fancy-looking armchair and brought a glass of cider to her lips.

They kept talking about the pieces Regina had written, and Emma was glad Regina was willing to share her insights with her, because she was genuinely interested in the strange world of journalism she, herself, had no clue about.

“How did you end up becoming a journalist?” Emma finally took a seat on the sofa and nursed her coke, careful not to spill a drop of it. She was certain the furniture in the office alone cost more than the contents of her entire apartment.

“I wanted to annoy my mother.” It was said with mirth, but there was an undercurrent of something, bitterness perhaps, which Emma could easily detect.

“Wow, I think a degree from Columbia would be something to make the parents proud.”

“You really did your homework, Miss Swan.”

“I wanted to know who I was working for, so sue me.”

“I see.”

Emma took another sip of the soda, waiting for Regina to continue. She didn’t need to wait long.

"My mother wanted me to become a politician, or a doctor, maybe. But I was always more interested in writing," Regina begins, eyeing the yellow-tinted liquid in her glass, seemingly deep in thought. "I figured she’d accept it once I actually got pieces published, once I was recognized by my peers, but… She’s never really, truly understood."

"I’m sorry, Regina."

"Don’t be. I’m not. I finally got to do something on my own, something she didn’t taint." Regina shrugged, sitting up straighter. "Besides, it’s not like we’ve been on speaking terms for years."

"I’m sorry." Emma knew she was repeating herself, but she didn’t know what else to say. She’d never witnessed Regina quite so…raw.

"You keep saying that." Regina gave a humorless laugh. She downed the remainder of her drink and stood up for a refill.

"Were you ever close?" She didn’t know what exactly prompted her to dig further.

"No," Regina replied swiftly, her back visibly tensing up before she swirled around and took a seat again.

Emma had become rather good at reading the other woman over the many months they’d known each other, and, right then, Regina’s body-language clearly signaled that the conversation about her mother was as good as over.

There was a silence Emma didn’t quite know how to fill, and she took another sip of her drink.

"Oh, by the way, I had the strangest visitor today," Emma began, suddenly knowing how to continue and effectively changing the subject.

"Oh?"

"A man named Mr. Gold, of Golden Books."

The glass in Regina’s hand slipped and clinked loudly against the table.

"Dammit," the brunette murmured, inspecting the tiny chip now evident in the rim of the glass.

"You okay?" Emma frowned, studying Regina’s rigid frame.

"I’m fine." It was said so curtly that Emma was slightly taken aback. Regina seemed to realize it as well and continued: "It’s just that I’ve had the displeasure of meeting Mr. Gold before, and he’s not a very pleasant person."

"He gave me the creeps," Emma agreed. "It was so weird; he pretty much offered to buy the shop."

"He wanted to buy Storybrooke?" Regina asked, her voice incredulous.

"Yeah."

"That bastard." Regina’s jaw clenched.

"Well, it’s not like we’re selling, right?"

"No, of course not." The brunette’s index finger tapped nervously against the glass. "Gold never does anything unplanned, he always has an angle. I just need to figure out what it is." The last part was almost said to no one in particular.

Emma kept eyeing Regina, the sudden change in the mood still hanging heavily between them. There was something Regina obviously wasn’t sharing with the rest of the class, but Emma wasn’t going to probe it – not when, for the first time in a long while, it felt like the other woman was going to bite her head off if she said the wrong thing.

"I’ll let you know if he decides to pay another visit."

"Yes." It seemed like Regina’s thoughts were still somewhere else, and Emma figured it was her cue to make an exit.

"Well, I think I need to head home if I want to be up bright and early tomorrow morning. I have a delivery coming in at eight."

"Right, of course." Regina emptied her glass, briefly frowning anew at the obvious crack in it.

Emma carefully placed hers on the table and followed Regina to the front door. They removed the car seat and installed it in Emma’s bug for the following day. Regina’s obvious disdain made Emma chuckle.

"Regina, it’s just a car."

"It’s a death trap; I can’t believe I’m letting my son in it."

"Henry will be fine, I promise." Emma rounded the car to the driver’s side. "You can pick him up from the shop whenever your meeting ends."

"Hopefully, it won’t be much later than five."

"Whatever the time, we’ll be there." Emma nodded and looked at Regina over the top of the car. "Oh, and thank you for tonight. The lasagna was incredible; I’m still salivating just thinking about it."

"You’re welcome." That same, pleased tint of red made it up Regina’s cheeks, and Emma found it utterly endearing. Her heart gave a flutter at the sight – something that had happened more and more recently, but Emma determinedly stomped down the feeling and cleared her throat. It was bad enough that she’d let her thoughts wander earlier while reading to Henry.

"See you tomorrow, Regina."

Regina nodded and took a step back from the curb, crossing her arms before her. "Drive safely." It was said with surprising warmth, and Emma felt her own cheeks color.

She hopped in her bug and sped away, Regina’s figure getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. Once she couldn’t see her anymore, Emma sighed loudly.

_This is bad. This is very, very bad._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's been forever. I had such a severe case of writer's block that even editing the already finished chapters was too much. I'll try and do better.

_\---  
"Why are you here?" Alissa asked suddenly one evening, as Rami was stoking the flames and sending sparks towards the sky. Rami had, more or less, refused to answer that question before, but Alissa still wanted to try again._

_"Because you practically forced me to drag you through the woods." Rami stated flatly, glancing at Alissa like the other woman had lost her damn mind._

_"Yeah, funny," Alissa huffed, swatting Rami’s shoulder and making the other woman cackle. "You know what I mean. Why are you here, in the middle of the woods, by yourself?"_

_Rami glanced at her, her face sobering up. For the longest time, she didn’t utter a word, but simply stared at the fire, deep in thought._

_"Because my family wanted me to be someone I’m not, to choose a path I didn’t want to choose. So I took myself out of the equation and decided my own faith," she finally broke the silence, her voice strong with conviction._

_"That’s…brave," Alissa said, unexpected admiration tinting her voice. "I applaud you, for having the courage to do that, for knowing yourself well enough to do that."_

_“The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself,” Rami spoke quietly, the sparks slowly taking the words with them towards the heavens._

_\---_

"Are you sure you don’t want me to help?" Amused, Emma leaned against the side of the car, watching as Regina (unsuccessfully, mind you) tried to install Henry’s car seat back into her own vehicle.

"Quite sure," Regina stated, exasperated, and blew a lock of hair off her face. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. "You obviously messed with the straps when you pulled this off of your joke of a car," she huffed and refused to budge. 

Emma was about to make a witty retort when a car passing them suddenly backfired, a loud bang ringing in the air and startling them both. Emma felt her breath get caught in her throat, a feeling of panic that was impossible to shake rising from somewhere deep within her. She, unbeknownst to herself, sank to the ground, leaning against the car as the flashback played intrusively before her eyes, over and over again. Cradling her head in her hands and gasping for air, she willed it to stop. If it would only _stop_.

In her mind, she saw the gun again, glinting in the streetlight coming from above. And like every time before, she was unable to move, unable to do anything, before the gun sounded and there was blood everywhere. Jesus, there was so much blood, covering her hands and seeping into her clothes, staining the ground.

There was a voice, then, somewhere on the edge of her mind, and Emma tried to focus on it, tried to get her mind away from the bloodbath, from the chaos. Feebly, she felt a hand on her arm, the familiar voice sounding closer now, and the darkness around her faded just a sliver.

She heard words now; someone was calling her last name, until there was a hesitant, quietly murmured "Emma."

Emma blinked, a familiar face suddenly swimming into her field of view, and she was able to draw breath again. She felt her entire body shake, but as she forced herself to concentrate on the concerned face before her, the tremors began to ease up with every passing second.

"Breathe, Emma."

Mortification was the first feeling that hit her. Burying her face back in her hands, she focused on evening out her breathing. The hand was still on her arm, a thumb making small, calming circles against her skin.

"I’m sorry," Emma whispered when she trusted her ability to speak again. She expected a snarky comment in return, but it never came.

Chancing a wary glance at Regina, she was met with a sympathetic look instead, a look filled with surprising warmth and trepidation.

Regina shook her head, her eyes still holding Emma’s gaze. "Let’s go inside, hmmh? The car seat can wait."

Once inside, Emma slumped down on the floor in front of the counter and leaned her head against it, exhausted. She looked on as Regina quickly flipped the _Open_ sign and locked the door before turning to the blonde. 

Hesitating for just a moment, Regina eventually made her way to the back of the shop and emerged soon after with a glass of water. Silently handing it to Emma, she studied the blonde with a thoughtful look in her eyes.

"Thank you," Emma mumbled, still shaken by the whole ordeal and somewhat ashamed by the fact that it was Regina who’d been there to witness it.

Emma saw Regina ponder her options, the brunette’s gaze alternating between the chair and Emma, and, finally, with a slightly displeased sigh, she carefully lowered herself down to sit next to the blonde (in a pencil skirt, no less) and crossed her ankles sophisticatedly. Even in her somewhat frazzled state of mind, Emma realized how significant a gesture it was.

She must’ve really scared Regina.

They spent the next minutes in silence, Emma sipping the water and Regina studying her nails. Surprisingly, Emma found the silence quite comforting. Gradually, the shaking of her hands lessened and, then, stopped altogether.

"I lost my partner," Emma found herself saying, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat and wondered why she wanted to share her most intimate story with the other woman.

Maybe it was the sense of panic that still loomed at the back of her mind, but she suddenly needed to tell it, needed to explain.

Regina didn’t say anything, the slight turn of her head the only sign she’d even heard Emma’s utterance.

"On the force," she elaborated, unable to look at anywhere but the now half empty glass in her hand. "August, he was a great partner and an even better friend. We’d known each other since the academy, and we were partners for five years before…before he died."

Downing the rest of the water in one gulp, Emma tried to collect her jumbled thoughts into a narrative that made sense.

"What happened?" Regina’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle; as if she was afraid Emma would break if her tone rose any higher.

"One night, a 911 call alerted us to a possible break in at a warehouse near Telegraph Hill. As we went to investigate, we stumbled across some thugs stealing electronics. August made the decision to go and apprehend them before back up arrived, not knowing that they heavily armed. A firefight broke out, and they shot him. Got him in the neck. I tried to stop the bleeding, but there was nothing I could do; he died in my arms and… I should’ve just stopped him." With a tired sigh, Emma rubbed her eye with the heel of her palm. "I should’ve demanded we wait for back up. I should’ve…"

She’d gone over it a billion times.

"Anyway, nothing was…nothing was quite the same after that. _I_ wasn’t quite the same." Emma gave a humorless laugh. "First, I was suspended, because I didn’t pass the psych eval. And then I just…I didn’t return. Cowardly couldn’t go back and face it, I suppose."

Finally, Emma chanced a look at Regina.

"You asked me why I quit being a cop, back when I coaxed you into hiring me." Regina nodded. "That’s why."

Emma expected the usual pity party, the bemoaning and how it was so awful and tragic. But it never came.

"Thank you for telling me." Regina was looking at her now, a tint of…respect in her eyes perhaps. Though, Emma didn’t care, because it was the most appropriate thing Regina could’ve said.

With a somewhat tremulous sigh, Emma ran a hand through her blonde locks and nodded, suddenly glad that she had opened up to the other woman.

"I haven’t had panic attacks in a long time; nowadays it’s mostly just nightmares. I don’t know why I reacted the way I did just now. Muscle memory, or something."

"That’s all right."

They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, before Emma slowly scrambled to her feet.

"Well, that was cheerful," Emma mused, shaking her head.

She offered her hand to Regina and pulled the other woman up with a little more force than necessary, a move which brought the brunette a whole lot closer to her than she’d anticipated. Emma could sense the warmth radiating from Regina, smell the faint scent of her perfume (surprisingly flowery), and she swallowed when there was a small, surprised gasp as Regina realized their close proximity.

For a tiny moment, it was as if the time stopped, Emma’s gaze locking with Regina’s. Something transpired between them, something Emma couldn’t even begin to name, but she sure as hell felt it. She could see a hint of surprise, and something else she couldn’t quite decipher either, in those mesmerizing brown eyes she’d admired from the first moment they met. She could feel Regina’s breath on her lips in a nearly tantalizing way, driving her closer and closer to insanity.

It was Emma who, albeit grudgingly, finally broke the spell by tearing her gaze away and taking a small step backwards, not wanting to make Regina feel uncomfortable. In order to break the tension, she cleared her throat and aimed for a steady tone.

"Thank you. For being there."

"Yes." Regina’s voice was uncharacteristically uneven. "That is what…friends are for." She smoothed down her skirt, picking up invisible lint here and there.

"Friends? I like that." Emma grinned, causing Regina to roll her eyes.

"Well, you’ve proven yourself, I suppose."

"Finally." Chuckling, Emma shook her head. "Uh, and by the way, while we’re on the subject of friends, I could swear I heard one, Regina Mills cave and call me by my first name earlier. When you tried to get me back from the crazy?" She smirked and squinted humorously.

Regina blinked, clearly confused for a second, but then Emma could see the understanding dawning on her, and the corner of the other woman’s mouth twitched, just barely.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"One of these days, Regina. One of these days." It was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes, but they were sparkling, nevertheless. With a sigh, she sat down on what had long ago become ‘Regina’s chair’.

Regina lifted a perfectly sculpted brow, but there was a faint, amused smile on her lips which she clearly tried to hide.

"Anyway, thank you, seriously. Mostly, for not freaking out." Emma awkwardly scratched the back of her head, suddenly wanting to let Regina know how much the earlier meant to her.

Regina blinked, clearly surprised by the earnestness in Emma’s voice. “You’re welcome."

"I, uh, I learned to deal with the panic attacks by myself, after I had them almost weekly. But…I’m glad you were here."

"Can’t imagine what that must’ve been like, dealing with them on your own."

"It wasn’t fun. Thankfully, though, I know myself well enough to just accept the fact that they might always be a part of my life." 

"Must be nice to know yourself so…thoroughly."

"_The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself_," Emma quoted, a melancholy lilt in her voice. With a sigh, she leaned against the back of the chair and missed the flash of _something_ in Regina’s eyes.

"Pardon?"

"What, too eloquent of me?" Emma teased and earned another eye roll in return. "It’s from the fantasy books series I mentioned before. I always found that part so…fitting, you know? It took me such a long time not to feel like a stranger in my own skin, and some days I still think I’m not comfortable enough with myself. But each day I’m getting better at accepting myself as I am, because the alternative is not terrilbly appealing."

Emma glanced at Regina and found the other woman staring at her with a look she wasn’t quite able to interpret.

"Anyway, those books, they’re basically describing my life to a T," Emma continued, slightly embarrassed at divulging so much of herself, yet again. What was it about this woman? "I know you probably think I’m a book nerd who’d rather live in imaginary worlds than face the real word, because it’s usually what people think, but it’s not like that. I just find it comforting to live in someone else’s shoes, to see things through their eyes, at least every now and again." She shrugged, slightly uncomfortable at how naked she suddenly felt under Regina’s sharp eyes.

Suddenly, the moment was over as Regina quickly turned her eyes away and slowly stepped closer to the various books on the shelf in front of her, clearly feigning interest in them. As the silence stretched, Emma was certain she’d succeeded in short-circuiting Regina’s brain by feeding her too much sappy, personal information. She was about to do some serious backtracking when, finally, Regina cleared her throat.

"We all have our ways to escape, don’t we?" Regina murmured, perhaps partly to herself, because, honestly, Emma had no clue what she’d meant by that. Remembering that she had a copy of _Swear not by the Moon_ under the counter, Emma quickly fetched it and placed it on the table between them.

"It is an amazing book, truly." She tapped the cover with her fingers. "Oh, and a lovely coincidence," Emma continued, trying to steer the mood away from the gloominess that had suddenly overtaken the room. Her fingers came to a halt on the now worn cover of the book. "The two books in the series, they were the last books your father sold to me before…before his passing." She smiled solemnly. "I will always be incredibly grateful for it, and I wish I could tell him that."

Regina didn’t look at Emma, and the blonde almost thought that she saw moisture in the corners of her eyes before Regina turned away abruptly. "I’m glad." Regina nodded, her voice betraying nothing as she fished her phone from her pocket. "I need to make a call, if you’ll excuse me."

"Sure." Slightly flabbergasted by the quick change of topic, Emma stood up as well. "I’ll give you some privacy." She wasn’t sure if Regina even heard her and headed for the back room. She could get the latest book order ready to be shelved.

Once Emma located the cardboard box she was looking for, she carefully broke the tape around it with a box cutter, her thoughts still in the odd conversation they’d just had. Well, a fairly one-sided conversation, but still. Somewhere from the front of the shop, she could faintly hear Regina talking on the phone. It seemed that every day Emma was more and more puzzled by Regina, as the most random things tended to spook the other woman. The latest one Emma labelled under ‘daddy issues’, because, clearly, there was more to that relationship than Regina let on.

After flipping through the contents of the box—the new additions to the classics section had finally arrived—Emma hoisted it up. 

As she stepped back to the other room again, she immediately stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes landed on Regina, standing almost hesitantly next to the corner table where they’d just been a moment ago. Emma wasn’t sure what exactly in Regina’s posture stopped her from announcing her presence, but she watched, intrigued, as Regina slowly slid her fingers along the cover of _Swear not by the Moon_ that Emma had left on the table. Emma was certain she imagined seeing Regina’s hand tremble slightly as she slowly lifted the cover and flipped through the pages, only to quickly slam the book closed and push it away with obvious despise. Confused, Emma saw Regina take a few calming breaths before turning away from the table, causing Emma to quickly scramble backwards as to not be seen spying.

Clearing her throat loudly, Emma stepped into the room for the second time, only to find Regina nonchalantly leaning against the counter, an almost bored look on her face.

For the millionth time since they’d known each other, Emma came to the conclusion that Regina Mills was an enigma she may never be able to crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a disclamer, I'm in no way talented enough to come up with the line Emma quoted. "The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself" was coined by the brilliant Mark Twain. I simply stole it and used it for my own, gay purposes.


	9. Chapter 9

_\---_

_Alissa wasn’t expecting it to happen quite so soon, but, one day, the edge of the forest suddenly appeared before them. It dawned on her that, in reality, she wasn’t at all prepared to continue her journey alone. The slight panic must’ve been written all over her face, because she felt Remi’s hand on her arm, intelligent eyes searching hers._

_"Will you be all right?"_

_"Of course!" Alissa exclaimed, albeit a tad too quickly. "I mean, this is what I wanted all along, simply to get a safe passage to the neighboring kingdom."_

_She rummaged through her bag, looking for the coin pouch, but before she could give Remi the guinea she’d promised, the other woman shook her head._

_"I don’t need your coin." When Alissa was about to protest, she continued: "You need it more than I do."_

_They stood there for a while in silence, neither of them quite knowing how to continue._

_It was Alissa who spoke first: "Thank you, Remi."_

_"You’re welcome, princess." And with a solemn smile the bandit was gone, leaving Alissa to stare at her wake._

_It took her a while to realize that Remi had called her princess._

_\---_

The ringing of the phone pierced through Emma’s sleep and, with a groan, she reached for the devil’s device. She’d wanted to sleep in that Sunday, knowing that, for the first time in a long while, she had the day completely off. Even though Emma rarely kept the shop open on Sundays, there was always something to do behind the scenes – and Sundays were the best days to do such tasks.

She peered down at the screen, squinting.

_Mary Margaret calling._

"Ugh." She nearly just muted and let it ring, but then she figured she was already awake; falling back asleep would be impossible. "Yeah?" she barked, her voice rough.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret squealed, and Emma had to momentarily move the phone further from her ear. "Have you read today’s Boston Globe?"

The question was, in every sense, ridiculous.

"Um, no, I haven’t."

"Oh, my God, Emma! Storybrooke made it to the Top10 most fascinating small businesses list!"

"A _what_ now?"

"The paper ran a story about small businesses in the Boston area and listed the ones which somehow impressed them! Storybrooke is number three."

That got Emma’s attention.

"Seriously?" She shot up in bed, sleep long forgotten. This had _enormous_ advertisement value.

"Yes! Listen. _’Storybrooke is a bookshop we all remember from our childhood, before the big chains took over and destroyed the concept of a corner shop. It is a charming place, the easy atmosphere immediately welcoming as you step through the door. The shop is specialized in fiction, and the variety of books is impressive. Make sure to also get a cup of coffee when you visit – the cappuccino especially is exquisite.’_" 

"Wow." Emma didn’t know what to say. This was…huge.

"I’m so proud of you, Emma." Mary Margaret’s voice was tinted with pride, and Emma scratched the back of the head in embarrassment.

"Well, I _have_ been working my ass off." She chuckled, feeling sheepish.

"You sure have," Mary Margaret agreed. "Are you free for brunch? We need to celebrate!"

Emma sure hadn’t planned on spending her day off with Mary Margaret, but the other woman sounded so excited that Emma didn’t have the heart to decline.

"Sure. Where would you want to go?"

"It’s a lovely day outside, so we could get some food from a food truck and take a walk in the Public Garden."

Okay, that didn’t sound too bad.

"Yeah, that’s fine. Should we meet at Arlington and Boylston around eleven?"

"Sounds good! See you soon."

Emma fell back down on the bed. This was definitely not what she’d expected, seeing Mary Margaret’s name flashing on her phone screen. Her head was spinning slightly, the implications of what she’d been told finally dawning on her; such visibility for the shop was something money simply could not buy. This was definitely going to bring in even more customers and, hopefully, increase the revenue of the shop. With the profits, she could even expand the nonfiction section, for Regina. Grinning, Emma stared at the ceiling and felt like things were _finally_ starting to look up for her.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

A few hours later, Emma and Mary Margaret were slowly walking along the path through the Public Garden, the lake sparkling brightly in the sun. The fall was almost upon them, although it was only the Labor Day weekend; the summer had been rather cool, and the air was almost crisp to the skin, though, the sun gave just enough warmth to still make it pleasant. Emma pulled her leather jacket more tightly around herself as she listened to Mary Margaret go on and on about how amazing and wonderful it was that Storybrooke was in the paper. She’d even brought a copy with her, so that Emma could _’maybe frame it and put it on the wall in the shop’_.

They passed the swan boats, a sign out front proclaiming that it was the last weekend the boats were in operation, and turned to the bridge crossing the pond. Emma observed the people out on the water, a bored-looking college student pedaling most of the boats while the children clamored and enjoyed the exciting experience. She vaguely heard Mary Margaret babbling on next to her, only occasionally making a sound and letting her know that she was (at least in theory) listening.

"Emma!" The blonde was yanked from her thoughts by a shrill voice coming from behind her, calling her name. She turned around and just barely had time to register a red-cheeked Henry running towards her and jumping up. She expertly caught the boy and hoisted him up, his tiny arms wounding around her neck.

"Hey, kid!" Emma smiled, the obvious excitement radiating from Henry making her feel warm inside. She gently lowered him back down, and he immediately grasped Emma’s hand.

"Henry! You shouldn’t go tackling people." Emma looked up as Regina walked up to them. She was dressed immaculately in black pants and a long, dark gray coat, and Emma couldn’t help but admire the obvious poise of the woman. She was accompanied by Kathryn who was looking at Henry and Emma, her eyebrow raised at the obvious display of affection.

"It’s all right." Emma ruffled Henry’s hair and smiled, locking gazes with Regina.

There was a small smile playing on Regina’s lips as well, her eyes downright sparkling, and Emma found herself unable to look away. It was way past what could be considered ‘normal’ length for eye contact, but the brown eyes in front of her were simply drawing Emma in as if she had no say in the matter.

It wasn’t until a distinct cough sounded next to her that Emma was able to tear her eyes away. She turned to Mary Margaret and felt her cheeks color.

"Right, this is Regina, my, uh, boss. This is Mary Margaret." The latter, chipper and with utterly too much familiarity, grabbed Regina’s hand in a greeting, and Emma nearly guffawed out loud at the flash of distaste crossing the other woman’s face. "And this is Kathryn."

"Nice to meet you." Kathryn smiled at Mary Margaret and then turned to Emma. "I was just congratulating Regina on the Boston Globe story. That’s really amazing."

"And as I told you," Regina began, "I’m just the one with the checkbook."

"That’s not true," Emma vehemently protested before Kathryn had a chance to reply, earning a surprised look from the other blonde. "You’ve been very much involved with things, and I honestly couldn’t have done it without you. It’s a team effort, really."

Emma didn’t necessarily mean to be so earnest and, in her mind, _fucking embarrassing_, but the words just stumbled out, causing Regina’s cheeks to color with what was hopefully pleasure.

"Well, there you have it." Kathryn was grinning, clearly amused, looking from Emma to Regina.

From the corner of her eye, Emma could see Mary Margaret studying her, her eyebrows climbing up her forehead in a downright comical manner.

"Emma, we took a swan boat!" Henry piped up from next to her, pulling her hand, clearly bored of the adults talking.

"Yeah? That’s so cool!" Emma smiled at the exuberance of the boy.

"Mom said we can have ice cream next," Henry continued, glancing at Regina with hopeful eyes.

"Well, sounds like the best day ever." Emma chanced another look at Regina, seemingly unable to keep her eyes away from the woman. 

"Can Emma come with us, too?" Henry pleaded, and Emma caught Kathryn hiding a smile behind her hand.

"Henry, I’m sure Miss Sw-, uh, Emma’s busy," Regina began, making Henry’s shoulders slump.

"We can go get ice cream some other day, Henry." Emma crouched down to his level. "I promise."

"Yeah?"

"Of course! You’re my best bud."

"Okay." He nodded and threw his arms around Emma’s neck again, taking her completely by surprise. She, inexplicably, felt a lump forming at the back of her throat.

Clearing her throat and trying to get rid of the overwhelming feeling of warm fuzziness inside of her, Emma stood back up.

"Right. Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow?" Emma knew it was a telltale sign of bewilderment, but she still stuck her hands into her jeans pockets in a futile attempt to ground herself. At least she fought the urge to rock up and down on the balls of her feet.

"Yes, tomorrow." Regina nodded, something weirdly uncharacteristic in the way she bopped her head.

With final farewells, Emma and Mary Margaret were on their way again, and Emma could practically hear the puzzlement emanating from the other woman.

"Emma, what the _hell_ was that?" she stage whispered, swatting Emma on the upper arm.

"I don’t know what you mean."

"Are you sure that child isn’t yours?" Her friend giggled with obvious glee.

"Shut up," Emma muttered, taking longer strides towards the George Washington statue and not bothering to check whether Mary Margaret could keep up. 

"Oh, just wait until Ruby hears about this!" The mirth in the other woman’s voice made Emma brood even more.

Momentarily raising her eyes to the sky, Emma let out a big sigh. Why did she always have to be so fucking awkward? She was never going to live this down.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

The scene from the park kept playing in Emma’s head on a regular basis during the following weeks, which is probably why she approached the subject with Henry during one of their reading sessions. Emma was simply curious, that’s all; there were no ulterior motives per se – at least any Emma was willing to admit to.

"Is Kathryn your real aunt, Henry?"

"No." The boy didn’t even raise his eyes from the pages he was currently wading through. "She’s mom’s special friend."

Okay, what the hell did that mean?

"What’s a special friend?" Emma asked, although she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Now that she thought about it, besides Henry, Kathryn _was_ the only person Regina seemed to have in her life, so of course it would absolutely make sense if they were-,

"Someone mom calls when she’s sad," Henry explained, interrupting the freight train without a conductor that was Emma’s thought process.

She blinked.

"Is she sad a lot?"

"She used to be, not so much anymore."

"Oh."

"Kathryn’s boyfriend flies planes!" Henry suddenly exclaimed, eyes shining with excitement. "He promised to take me with him when I’m older."

"Really? That’s cool."

Okay, there was a boyfriend in the picture; Emma didn’t want to address how elevated she was, knowing that fact. Because it’s not like she really cared, _much_. At the end of the day, Regina was her boss, first and foremost, and that was that.

Emma’s train of thought was, once again, interrupted when the bell above the door chimed. She turned around with a frown, because she’d flipped the open sign earlier, wanting to spend time with Henry without being interrupted by customers.

"I’m sorry, we’re cl-." Her hands squeezed into tight fists when she saw Gold stepping into the shop. "Mr. Gold." Emma nodded, subconsciously sidestepping to stand in front of Henry, somehow wanting to shield the boy. "What can I do for you?"

Emma knew she came across somewhat contentious, but Regina’s words from the evening she’d had dinner with her and Henry rang in her head.

_He’s not a very nice person._

"Tsk, tsk, such hostility." Gold tutted, eyeing the shop curiously. His eyes landed on Henry. "And who might you be, young lad?"

Emma cursed inwardly. Henry glanced at her, as if to check whether answering was all right, and Emma tried to give him her most genuine smile.

"I’m Henry," the boy replied shyly and got up, coming to stand slightly behind Emma, as if seeking for safety.

"It’s okay," Emma whispered, offering another smile.

"Henry?" Gold’s eyebrows twitched. "Interesting."

"So, anything I can do for you, Mr. Gold?" Emma asked again, putting her arm around Henry and trying to convey more confidence than she actually felt.

It was as if the presence of Gold had sucked all the goodness out of the shop, leaving nothing but coldness in its stead.

"Right." Gold nodded, leaning more heavily on his cane. "I came to congratulate you on the wonderful article in The Boston Globe."

"Thank you." Emma stared him squarely in the eye. "Anything else?" She knew she was being extremely rude, but she was past caring. She wanted the man out of her shop as soon as possible.

"Well." The smile he offered was anything but genuine. "I wanted to see if, this time, I’d be able to convince you to sell."

Right then, the door was pushed open with more force than usual, and Emma saw Regina storm in, her eyes blazing with more venom than she’d ever seen before.

"The shop is not for sale," Regina stated curtly, moving to stand between Gold and Emma.

"Now, now. What is it with the sour attitude today?" He regarded Regina with glee.

"You heard her," Emma affirmed. "We’re not going to sell, no matter what you’re offering."

"Is that so?" Gold began, looking around the shop again and, finally, his cold eyes landed back on Regina. "Interestingly, I’ve found that _everyone_ has a price, don’t they, Regina?"

"I’m asking you to leave now." Emma strode to the door and yanked it open, turning to look poignantly at Gold. "_Please_."

Gold sneered, his eyes still on Regina.

"Give my regards to your mother, Regina." Gold gave a small nod, a knowing smile on his lips, and Emma could see Regina’s jaw muscles tighten. "I’ll be in touch," he added, finally limping through the door which was promptly slammed shut behind him.

"Please, don’t be," Emma muttered, turning to the other woman.

She took a few, hesitant steps towards Regina. Henry, bless his heart, simply went back to his book as if he hadn’t just witnessed a goddamn hostility galore in the middle of Storybrooke.

"Are you okay?" Emma asked quietly, not wanting to alert Henry that there was anything unusual going on. After a little hesitation, she dared to place a hand on Regina’s arm.

Regina seemed almost startled by her touch, bleary eyes turning to look at Emma.

"Yes, I’m fine." Regina offered a tight smile. "Mr. Gold is an old acquaintance of my mother. That’s how I know him," she offered as an explanation, probably sensing the bewilderment in Emma.

Emma was about to prompt her, to demand some more answers, because there was clearly something else between Regina and Gold which she wasn’t privy to. But she was stopped by a small hand grasping hers.

"Can we go get milkshakes now, mom?" Henry asked, peering up at Regina, clearly divinely unaware of the tension still present in the room. "Remember you promised?"

"Yes, Henry." Regina’s smile was a little more relaxed as she looked at her son. She pulled the boy closer and hugged him, pressing a kiss on the top of his head. "Love you."

"Ugh. Love you too, mom." Henry pulled a face, seemingly perplexed at the sudden attention his mother was paying him.

Emma, on the other hand, suddenly felt like crying, observing the pair. She remembered the all too familiar feeling of rejection from her childhood, when she kept wondering why she wasn’t good enough, why no one ever wanted her. She would’ve done absolutely anything for someone to love her like Regina obviously loved Henry. Swallowing hard, Emma turned away and took a few calming breaths.

"Can we go now?" she heard Henry ask, a hint of whining in his voice.

Emma turned back around, finally able to keep her emotions in check.

"Have fun, you two." She smiled at Henry’s obvious excitement.

Regina cleared her throat, finally raising her gaze to Emma. "Would you like to join us?"

"Oh," Emma uttered, taken by surprise. "Really?"

"No, I’m asking as a joke," Regina deadpanned, some of her usual bite returning.

"Say yes, Emma! Please!" Henry’s eyes were shining as he peered up at her. Like Emma could ever say no to that face.

"Err, sure, I’ll come with."

"Awesome!" Henry ran to get his coat and tried to wiggle his small frame into it. "Let’s go!"

He was nearly at the door when Regina caught him, making sure his coat and hat were properly in place before walking into the cold, late September air.

The walk to a nearby diner went by pleasantly as Henry chatted about the birds in a tree near their house and things he’d read and learned, and Emma was filled with a feeling so foreign that she almost choked. She’d never felt quite so…_included_.

Emma listened happily as Henry babbled on, his hand again firmly in hers, and she chanced small glances at Regina who seemed to be her normal self again. As their gazes met, Regina offered a small smile, rolling her eyes over Henry’s head at his constant chattering. Emma felt her own lips tilt upwards, wanting this feeling of contentment to last forever.

They reached the diner and made their way to an empty booth at the back, Henry still insisting on holding Emma’s hand. In the grand scheme of things, it really shouldn’t have surprised her when the waitress approached their table and read the whole situation so very, very wrong.

"Good afternoon, my name is Sandra. What would this lovely family want to order today?" The waitress was smiling, her notepad and pen ready for their order.

Emma spluttered, squeezing the edge of the table, her knuckles white. "Oh, we’re not, uh-,"

"We’d like the biggest chocolate milkshakes you have," Regina smoothly interrupted Emma’s panicky burbling, smiling like she hadn’t just witnessed the waitress assuming that Henry was having an afternoon treat with her two mommies.

"Coming right up!" Sandra jotted down a few notes and, with one, final nod, turned on her heels and left the table, leaving a wide-eyed Emma to stare after her.

"Hope you like chocolate," Regina said pleasantly, apparently not in any way affected by Sandra’s utterly incorrect assumption.

"Uh, yes, it’s fine."

"Chocolate is the best!" Henry piped up, tapping the table excitedly.

It wasn’t long until three massive milkshakes were placed in front of them, Henry squealing with delight.

"How was preschool today, honey?" Regina asked, smoothing the lapel of her son’s shirt.

Emma watched, transfixed, as the two conversed. Henry eagerly described his day as Regina uttered encouraging comments in between and absentmindedly stirred the milkshake with her straw.

For a fleeting moment, Emma allowed herself to pretend that it was real, that she belonged there with them; they were just like any other family, spending time together and indulging in the most sumptuous milkshakes of their lives.

For that fleeting moment, Emma was the happiest she had ever been.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments and the kudos, and to all the lurkers, too. You're all awesome.

_\---_

_In all honesty, Alissa didn’t know what she was doing, traipsing alone through narrow lanes in a strange city. She was royalty; everything had always been done for her, and she realized she was wholly unequipped for this. Even after escaping, it’d been Remi who had protected her. Her inaptitude became painfully obvious as she rounded a corner and found herself being roughly grabbed, a sharp edge of a knife pressing against her neck._

_"Women like you shouldn’t just wonder around these parts," a male voice whispered in her hear, his breath smelling rotten and repulsive. "Especially a pretty thing like you."_

_Alissa wasn’t able to move, the fear paralyzing her. She could feel the man’s fingers unpleasantly digging into her side, and she realized there and then that she was probably not getting out of the situation unscathed. About to plead for her life, to peg for the man to just take her coins and let her go unharmed, a voice somewhere in the shadows startled them both._

_"Get the hell away from her, you scoundrel." Something hit the side of the man’s face and he slumped, rather unceremoniously, to the ground._

_Alissa whirled around, coming face to face with Remi who looked nothing short of furious. Alissa had never been more relieved to see anyone in her life, which is probably why, in a moment of weakness, she lunged herself at the other woman and wrapped her arms around Remi’s neck._

_"Hey, it’s all right." Remi’s arms wound around Alissa’s midsection, and she had never felt so safe._

_Hand stills trembling slightly, Alissa pulled back, her cheeks coloring as she realized how she’d reacted. For a moment, neither of them said a word._

_"Would you, uh, maybe be willing to accompany me for a little while longer after all?" Alissa asked, swallowing her pride. "For a guinea, of course."_

_Remi gave a lopsided grin. "Of course."_

_\---_

This was it. Emma was going to do it this time. From the confines of her car, tapping her fingers rhythmically against the wheel, she followed people moving in and out of the building. Yes, she was absolutely going to do it this time. In all honesty, she’d lost count on how many times Ruby had been on her case about it, had practically pressured her to make an appearance.

_Boston Police, South Boston Neighborhood Station_ was written in white letters on the sign on the other side of the street, and Emma felt the first tremors in the tips of her fingernails. 

"For fuck’s sake, this is ridiculous," she muttered, willing herself to let go of the wheel and grab the handle of the door. The door felt like it was made of lead, moving the handle turning out to be a nearly impossible task. With all the willpower she possessed, Emma managed to crack it open, just a tiny bit, but to her, it felt like she’d just climbed Mount Everest. A drop of sweat slid down the side of her face as the trembling in her hands gradually intensified.

It was nearly going the way she’d planned, until the unplanned happened in the form of two ex-colleagues walking down the street towards the station. Graham had once been a good friend of hers, until she promptly cut him out of her life after the shooting. His partner, Killian, Emma was never particularly close with, but there was always a certain level of trust among the people you worked with on the force.

It was turning out of be just too much, the idea of being the sole focus of Graham and Killian’s mocking eyes, because she wasn’t strong enough to get over the tragedy, because she wasn’t strong enough to not get her partner killed. Tears stinging in her eyes, Emma closed the car door with a little more force than necessary and grabbed the steering wheel again. Her knuckles turned white as she willed the tears not to fall, only to realize it was a losing battle.

Leaning her head against the wheel, Emma Swan cried for the first time in a long while, mourning the life she used to have, mourning the fact that she seemed to be utterly and irrevocably broken.

**OuatOuaTOuaT**

The clock on the living room wall was almost 11pm. Emma had walked circles around the room for the better part of the evening, still utterly floored by the emotional impact of essentially having a nervous breakdown outside of the station. Adding to the fact that she hadn’t been able to get the whole milkshakes with Regina and Henry the week before out of her head either, Emma was nothing short of rattled. This whole thing was simply getting out of hand.

Despite the time, she snatched her phone off the table and selected the only number she could in a situation like this.

"Emma?" Mary Margaret sounded surprised.

"I like her, Mary Margaret," she blurted out before the nerves could intervene. "Regina, I mean. I’m hopelessly attracted to her, both physically and otherwise, and I just don’t know what to do. So, uh, _that_ is what the whole mess in the park was."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, not quite able to believe she’d just admitted to all that.

"I know." Mary Margaret’s voice was warm and understanding, and Emma immediately knew why she’d called her and nobody else.

"I’m such a mess."

"No, you’re not. It’s just been a while since you’ve felt that way about anyone. It’s bound to freak you out."

Emma didn’t want to point out that she didn't think she had never felt this way before.

"I don’t know what to do. She’s my boss, and I honestly don’t even know what she truly thinks of me."

"You just keep being your charming self, Emma." She could hear the smile in the other woman’s voice.

"Are you kidding me?" Emma uttered, incredulously. "She’s gorgeous and rich and, my God, so elegant, and I’m, well, _me_."

"You’re selling yourself short, Emma, for no reason. You’re beautiful and smart and such a catch," Mary Margaret praised. Emma found her cheeks burn at the overt compliments her friend was spouting out.

"I’m damaged," Emma protested weakly, the age-old insecurities suddenly making an appearance for the second time that day.

"Oh, sweetie. From what you’ve told us, she might be as well." There was a small pause. "If she’s into _ladies_," Emma rolled her eyes at the emphasis. "…there’s absolutely no reason Regina wouldn’t be into you."

"I don’t know."

"Emma, you’re such a wonderful person. Just give it time, you never know."

Emma sighed.

"Thank you, Mary Margaret." She cleared her throat, slightly embarrassed at being so emotional.

"Anytime."

"And sorry for calling so late."

"You can call me whenever you feel like it."

"Say hi to David for me."

"I will. Good night, Emma."

"Good night."

Slumping down on the couch, Emma realized she actually felt slightly better. Talking with Mary Margaret usually had that effect on her. It was slightly peculiar, but she just happened to be the closest thing Emma had ever had to a mother figure.

Mary Margaret’s encouraging words sounding in her head, she felt calm enough to reach for a book and read for the first time all week. Glancing at the cover, she closed her eyes and let out an annoyed groan. _The Lucky One_ by Nicholas Sparks. The cover had Zac Efron on it, of all people. 

"You’ve stooped so damn low, Emma," she muttered, but flipped the book open anyway. She would forever deny reading such literature, but everyone had their low moments, and this was hers.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

The numbers didn’t make any sense at all. Hitting enter again Emma’s eyes widened as the figures didn’t alter even a little. There had to be a wrong number somewhere, goddammit. The revenue had been steadily growing, especially after the Boston Globe ran the article about the shop, and the numbers were in a completely different stratosphere than when she’d first started.

With growing trepidation, Emma suddenly realized she truly knew next to nothing about accounting. _Accounting for Dummies_ she’d bought all those months ago was turning out to be a bust (she’d basically went over it with a fine-tooth comb), and she broke out in cold sweat as the realities of doing the taxes as a business owner dawned on her.

"Fuck."

She tried really hard not to hyperventilate. Lowering her head to the keyboard, she let out a miserable wail. That is where Regina found her when she stepped into the shop a little while later.

"Remind me again why you insisted on doing this by yourself? I have a perfectly good accountant." Regina crossed her arms, eyeing Emma with obvious puzzlement. Emma lifted her head and tried to ignore the way Regina’s pencil skirt fit her just right, her long, perfect legs going on for miles.

"Because I want to know exactly what goes on in our business," Emma replied, her voice anxious. "The book just made this look way easier." She was way over her head. Shit.

"It can’t be that difficult." Regina shrugged, taking a seat at the table as well.

"Really?" Emma shoved the calculator and various Excel spreadsheets towards the brunette. "By all means, oh boss of mine, be my guest."

She shot a knowing look at Regina, who narrowed her eyes and snatched the calculator off the table, accepting the challenge.

Hours later, it was getting dark outside, and they were none the wiser. As soon as some figures made sense, some others didn’t fit anymore. Emma knew it was all there; she hadn’t missed anything, because she’d made sure to do the financial side of the things properly from the beginning. But putting it all together for the IRS was a nightmare.

"The numbers are just swimming around in my head now," Emma groaned, leaning back and resting her head against the back of the chair for a moment. On her side of the table, Regina was pinching the bridge of her nose, clearly having similar thoughts.

"I can’t concentrate anymore," the other woman admitted as well, throwing the calculator on top of the spreadsheets.

Observing Regina for a while, Emma decided to bite the bullet. "I have an idea. Let’s just take a break." 

Emma shot up from the chair. She rummaged through the cupboard under the coffee machine and eventually stood up, placing a bottle of Merlot on the counter. Regina’s eyes widened.

"I _still_ would’ve pegged you as a beer type of a person."

"Such stereotyping." Emma shook her head, feigning offence. "I’ll have you know, I’ve actually been to a proper wine tasting." It was true, she had. It’d been a birthday present from the guys at the force. Though, the fact that they had laughed their asses off after seeing her terrified face, knowing she was totally a beer kind of a gal, was something she wasn’t going to share with Regina.

"How drunk did you get?" Regina asked innocently, tilting her head to the side slightly.

"Seriously?" Emma questioned, but the red tint coloring her cheeks gave her away. At Regina’s raised eyebrow, she muttered: "I don’t know how I got home, but that’s not the point."

"Of course not." Regina chuckled, obviously entertained by the other woman’s discomfort. 

"Whatever." Emma rolled her eyes. "So, you want a glass of this or not?" She nodded towards the bottle on the counter.

There was a moment of hesitation, after which Regina finally shrugged. "Well, why not?"

"Excellent. Follow me." Grabbing the bottle and two glasses—water glasses would have to do—she led them through the back room, fetching two blankets on the way which she then handed to a confused Regina trailing behind her. A back door led to a small staircase, and Emma held it open for the other woman.

"Where are we going?" Regina peered hesitantly up the stairs and then at her heels which were clearly not meant for this. There were a few lightbulbs giving the space some light, but it was impossible to see whether the steps would lead anywhere.

"Somewhere cool. Come on, it’s worth it." Emma began climbing, hearing Regina hesitantly follow her. Finally reaching the top after quite a few flights of stairs, they came face to face with a rusty door which Emma pushed open with a loud creak. "Mind the step," she instructed Regina and stepped outside on the rooftop.

"Wow." Emma heard Regina whisper behind her as she took in the view. "I had no idea you could see all the way to East Cambridge from here."

"Yeah, it’s lovely." Emma nodded, placing the wine and the glasses on a small plastic box while she dragged two deck chairs next to it, placing them close together. "But it’s not why I brought you here," she admitted as she grabbed the blankets from Regina and spread one on each chair.

"Oh?" Regina eyed the blankets, scrunching up her nose.

"They’re perfectly clean."

"Right." Regina gingerly took a seat, and, despite her obvious disdain, she pulled the blanket around her to protect herself from the chill of the late fall. Emma poured them both a glass of wine—Regina eagerly accepting hers—and then also took cover underneath her own blanket.

"Lean back."

"What?"

"Lean _back_." Emma chuckled and did so herself. Regina hesitantly followed her lead. "Now, look up."

Emma settled comfortably in her chair and admired the bright night sky spreading above them. Despite the air pollution and the city lights hindering the view, the stars were still shining wonderfully bright, extending across the sky. Emma heard a sharp intake of breath beside her.

"Oh, my God." Regina whispered, her eyes full of wonder as Emma turned to look at her.

"Amazing, right?" Emma smiled, happy that the other woman was just as impressed as she’d been when she’d found the amazing lookout spot a few months earlier.

"I’d no idea you could see the stars so clearly in the city."

"Neither did I. I wanted to keep this as my own little secret, but, well, you’re an exception."

They sipped their wine in silence, simply admiring the view above them. Emma wasn’t sure how long they sat there without either one saying a word, but it was actually Regina who first broke the silence.

"Thank you, Emma." It was said so quietly Emma nearly missed it. She turned to Regina, glimpsing genuine gratitude in the other woman’s eyes before Regina turned her gaze to the sky again.

"You’re welcome," Emma answered gently, though she was not quite sure what she was being thanked for. What she did know, however, was that, all of a sudden, she was unable to pull her eyes away from the woman next to her.

Regina seemed to sense Emma’s eyes boring into her, because she slowly looked back, their gazes locking.

There was an instant frisson between them, a spark of electricity spreading through Emma’s entire body. Even in the current lighting, she saw the brown eyes in front of her darken, the openness in them so absolute Emma thought she would drown. Somewhere along the way things had altered, morphed from simple physical attraction to something far more profound. Emma knew she wanted everything. The thought she had fought so long to suppress leaped forward, unhinged, dancing around in her head with such clarity that it was impossible to ignore.

_I’m falling in love with her._

Emma wasn’t certain which one of them moved, or maybe they both did, but she became acutely aware of being significantly closer to Regina, the other woman’s lips parting slightly as she drew a ragged breath.

Somewhere below, a car suddenly honked, tires screeching violently, and the spell between the two women broke, springing them apart. Blinking, Emma cleared her throat, giving a nervous smile before fixing her gaze to the nearly empty glass in her hand. She could see it shaking slightly.

There was a long silence which Emma didn’t know how to break, but, eventually, it was Regina who let her out of her misery.

"I used to go stargazing with my father." Regina’s voice was just above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

Regina nodded, seemingly unable to meet Emma’s gaze again. She drew in a breath, as if to continue, but at the last minute, she gave a small shake of her head instead and raised the glass to her lips, taking a small sip.

"I never had anyone to take me stargazing," Emma admitted with a small voice, slightly unsure whether the occasion was one for sharing. Regina glanced at her with a small frown. "I’ve told you I was in the foster system. Well, I never really had a permanent family." Emma gave a small shrug, trying to play it off, although it still took a toll on her, all these years later. "I was bounced from one foster home to the next my whole childhood, and nobody really took much interest in me. So no, no one ever cared enough to show me constellations."

Their eyes met anew in understanding, and Emma felt the earlier frisson hum between them again.

"I know it’s not the same, but my parents never really got on; it’s a mystery to me why exactly they were married in the first place. My father left when I was ten, after that it was just me and my mother." Regina gave a sad smile. "But one of the clearest memories I have of him is going to this small hill near our house and seeing the Milky Way span across the night sky."

"That’s nice," Emma offered quietly.

"You always call him Mr. Mills. His first name was Henry." Regina’s voice cracked slightly. "My Henry is named after him. I supposed I was longing for a sort of a connection which never really existed."

There was a long pause, then, both of them deep in thought.

"Can I ask for a favor?" Regina finally broke the silence again, and Emma dared to look at her.

"Yeah." It was Regina’s turn to nervously fidget with the glass, and Emma wasn’t sure she had never seen her quite as vulnerable before.

"Can you…uh, God, this is utterly ridiculous." Regina hesitantly glanced at Emma before taking a deep breath, clearly making a decision. "Can you tell me about my father?"

Emma offered a sympathetic smile, understanding the true meaning behind the request.

"Of course."

Emma cleared her throat and started from the beginning, from the first moment she’d stepped into Storybrooke nearly a year ago, and how she had befriended Mr. Mills. She related all the stories she had of him and explained what a wonderful person he’d been, introducing Regina to a father she’d obviously never truly had.

Regina listened intently and eagerly hung on to Emma’s every word, the chairs close enough for their feet to brush against each other in a way that was not entirely accidental. As the stars continued to shine above them, Emma knew that, no matter where life would take her, this would be one of the moments she would remember and cherish forever.


	11. Chapter 11

_\---_

_Things were different after Alissa joined forces with Remi again; it was as if the short period of time they’d spent apart had somehow altered the way they saw each other. Alissa was aware that she didn’t find Remi quite as insufferable as before, and she felt like the other woman was being kinder to her as well. The change was good, even if Alissa didn’t quite understand what had transpired between them._

_After the fiasco of going her own way, Alissa had decided that maybe it would be better to settle down somewhere that wasn’t so crowded. Maybe she could find a small cottage somewhere in the woods; she could learn how to properly hunt, to find just the right berries and plants to eat. She would find her place in the world. And maybe Remi could help her achieve that._

_As the bandit glanced her way and smiled almost timidly, Alissa realized that she truly wouldn’t mind seeing more of the woman – at least for a little while._

_\---_

"So you…looked at each other?" Ruby asked, trying to fully grasp why Emma was currently explaining this particular story to her. Simultaneously, she hailed the bartender for another pint.

"Yes!"

"I’m not following."

"Seriously?" Emma pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and tried again. "Something happened. We looked at each other, and there was a moment like… Remember that movie, _Imagine Me and You_, that you made me watch, because ‘Emma, this flick has lesbians’? They look at each other and, magically, the world stops and there’s nothing but the two of them. They realize they’re meant to be, and all that romantic crap."

"I can’t believe Emma I-don’t-do-relationships Swan is referencing a rom-com to me!" Ruby guffawed, causing Emma roll her eyes. "If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re fa-." Suddenly, Ruby’s eyes widened, her beer halting halfway to her lips. "Oh, my Lord, you’re falling for her."

"I swear to God, if you turn this into a joke, I’m going to kill you." Emma could feel her cheeks redden.

"Are you kidding me, I’ve been waiting for this forever!"

"What?"

"I’ve been waiting forever for someone to come and sweep your sorry ass off your feet." Ruby swiftly pulled Emma into a bear hug. "I can’t believe it’s Madame Ice, though."

"Don’t call her that," Emma immediately bristled, extricating herself from her best friend. "That’s honestly not who she is."

"You’re so into her." Ruby shook her head, sporting a wide smirk, which Emma decided to ignore.

"So, you understand now what I was trying to say? There was a _moment_, and I don’t know whether I should bring it up, or what," Emma agonized. "I mean, I told her things I’ve never told anyone, no offence." Emma gave an apologetic shrug, seeing Ruby lift her eyebrow meaningfully. "See, this is why I don’t do feelings or relationships!"

"Feelings are a good thing!" Ruby wrapped her arm around the other woman again and grinned. "But I think you should just wait and see how it all plays out, you know? Just continue to be yourself and things will work out."

"Why does everyone keep telling me to be myself? Have you _met_ me?" Emma exclaimed, downing the last of her beer and shaking her head when she was offered another one by the bartender.

"Well, for some mysterious reason your crush seems to like the real you," Ruby said innocently, earning a punch to the shoulder from Emma which only made Ruby cackle.

"I am absolutely delightful, I have you know." Emma squared her shoulders and puffed out her chest.

"Oh, definitely. And your favorite pastime is to eyefuck pretty ladies in the middle of the Public Garden," Ruby said innocently, her eyes dancing with merriment.

Emma’s bravado deflated in an instant.

"I’m going to kill Mary Margaret," she moaned, burying her head in her hands while Ruby’s insufferable laughter filled the air.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

With quiet steps, Emma made her way out of Henry’s room and down the stairs. It had become a tradition that whenever Emma had dinner with Regina and Henry, it was Emma who put the boy to bed and read him a bedtime story. Per Regina’s request, they alternated between fact and fiction, which was just as well, because Emma simply loved being included in their everyday routines. Truly, she couldn’t believe how domesticated she was beginning to be.

Peering into the dining room, Emma found the space empty. She made her way towards Regina’s study next which was the place where she usually found the other woman after getting back downstairs. This time, the study was also deserted, but the feel of cold air on her skin indicated that the door to the back porch was open.

The moon cast a faint light upon the back garden as Emma stepped out on the veranda, immediately spotting Regina leaning against the railing, her back to the door. With careful steps, as if afraid to disturb the calmness of the moment, Emma made her way to stand next to her. 

"Henry asleep?" Regina asked quietly, handing a glass of yellow colored liquid to Emma.

"Like a log." Emma accepted the offered drink, taking a small sip. The swift of apples reached her nose, and the liquid pleasantly warmed her insides. "Your famous apple cider, I presume?" Emma was surprised, since she’d never been offered the infamous beverage before.

The corner of Regina’s mouth quirked up in affirmation, though, the other woman’s eyes were still staring at the garden, at seemingly nothing. They stayed like that for a while, watching as the moon streamed through the branches of an enormous apple tree, the cold causing their breaths to come out in white puffs.

"My father planted that tree on my 10th birthday," Regina suddenly murmured, bringing Emma’s eyes to her. "Just before he left." She took a long swig from her own glass. "My mother wanted to tear it down, but I managed to talk her out of it. In some peculiar way, the tree has been like a tether to my father. Whenever it bears fruit, it’s like a gift from him."

"That’s nice." Emma gave a small smile. She leaned her hip to the railing and turned to fully look at Regina. "I remember you telling me that you’re not very close with your mother."

Regina scoffed, her eyes glued to the liquid swirling in her glass. "She calls me once a year; thankfully, we actually see each other less frequently than that. Not that I don’t still expect her to be on top of everything that I do."

"She sounds like a fun person." Emma quirked her eyebrows, earning a sneer from Regina.

"She’s never approved of anything I did. I’ve mentioned my career as a journalist; it’s the same with having a child out of wedlock and, basically, with every decision I’ve ever made." She briefly glanced at Emma. "Don’t get me wrong, I’m not bitter about it, not anymore at least. I’m used to the fact that I’ve never really had a relationship with my parents."

"I know the feeling," Emma said quietly, her voice tinted with empathy.

"I probably seem utterly ungrateful to you. At least I knew my parents." Regina cast her eyes down, shaking her head.

"No, you don’t." Maybe it was the cider, but Emma suddenly felt a surge of courage run through her and placed her hand on top of Regina’s on the railing.

She partly expected Regina to withdraw her hand, to tell her to get out of the house for such an indecent gesture. Instead, Regina’s eyes slowly traveled from their nearly entwined hands up to Emma’s face, her eyes dark and uncharacteristically open. Emma felt, once again, her world alter somehow, the mere presence of Regina bringing every cell in her body to life. She unconsciously took a small step forward, bringing her closer to the other woman than would strictly be appropriate between friends.

Standing there, in the crisp November air, Emma found that she saw Regina in a new light. Her mind flashed back to her favorite books about the princess and the bandit, and Emma realized that, actually, Regina and the princess were very much alike. Regina, too, had simply been thrown into a life that had, in many ways, been decided for her. Nevertheless, she’d been strong enough to break away from those expectations, and Emma felt even more respect towards the other woman.

"Emma?" Regina’s voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah?" Emma didn’t know how it was possible her voice didn’t waver, because the closeness of the other woman alone made her heart beat erratically in her chest.

"I-," Regina began, only to be interrupted by her phone ringing on the table just inside the house.

The spell broke, just like it’d done that evening on the rooftop. Emma took an involuntary step backwards as Regina pulled back her hand, a faint red tinting the brunette’s cheeks.

"I should…I should get that," Regina muttered, her voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah." Emma gave a small smile and followed Regina inside, cursing her utterly bad luck.

Inadvertently glancing at Regina’s phone as the other woman reached to pick it up, she could’ve sworn she saw the name Gold on the screen. Regina promptly declined the call, flipping the device over.

At Emma’s raised brow, Regina shrugged. "Telemarketer. Don’t know how they always get my number," Regina huffed, not quite meeting Emma’s eyes. Emma wasn’t sure if the awkwardness was because of their _almost_ moment on the porch, or because she’d perhaps seen the caller ID correctly, or maybe both. She gave a tight smile and placed her now empty glass on the table.

"I’d, uh, better get going." Emma made a haphazard gesture towards the door. "Early morning tomorrow."

"Of course." Regina gave an apologetic smile, but, again, Emma wasn’t certain what she was sorry for. She couldn’t help wishing that Regina had wanted the moment earlier to lead somewhere different as well.

"I’ll see you at Storybrooke tomorrow," Emma uttered before shrugging on her jacket and turning the door knob.

"Yes." Regina’s smile was more genuine now, and Emma couldn’t help being mesmerized by it. She couldn’t quite believe her luck, that Regina was actually smiling at _her_. 

Later on, Emma would absolutely blame the cider for everything, but in another burst of courage, she found herself leaning forward. She could see Regina’s eyes widen and caught the scent of her perfume as she laid a soft kiss on the brunette’s cheek.

"Good night, Regina," she whispered, her breath grazing the other woman’s ear, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Regina didn’t reply as Emma pulled back. Rather, she simply stood there, her mouth slightly agape. With a one, finale smile, Emma turned on her heels and made her way down the steps, leaving Regina to stand in the doorway, her eyes boring to the back of Emma’s head.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

Emma was up much earlier than usual, her night having been plagued by nightmares for the first time in months. She refused to acknowledge why, this time, there’d been several dreams involving Regina and Henry as well. Being out of the door in record time, Emma sped through the fairly quiet streets of Boston and navigated her bug towards Storybrooke.

Swerving to the right and into a free parking space a little way from the shop, Emma killed the engine and took a calming breath through her nose. For the entire morning, she hadn’t been able to get the previous evening out of her head. The way Regina had responded to her touch on the porch was enough to convince Emma that something absolutely would’ve happened if the goddamn phone hadn’t rung in the wrong moment. And since Regina hadn’t slapped her across the face for the goodnight kiss at the door, Emma was carefully optimistic.

Chuckling out loud, Emma removed the seatbelt and was just about to get out of the car when movement near Storybrooke caught her attention. Craning her head to see a little better, she frowned as her eyes landed on Regina and Gold clearly having an argument on the sidewalk. The only reason she assumed it was an argument was because, even from a distance, she could tell Regina’s eyes were blazing with fury. With growing trepidation, Emma spied on the scene before her, ready to bolt out of the car if Gold even as much as raised his hand.

Gold, however, apparently remained calm, his signature stance never wavering as he leaned on his cane. Although he had his back towards Emma, she could tell he was being his arrogant self, the smug and slimy smile probably firmly in place. Regina crossed her arms before her, looking defiantly at the man before her, and even if Emma couldn’t hear the conversation, she felt proud for Regina standing her ground. It wasn’t until Gold said something obviously important that Regina took a seemingly involuntary step back, her face falling in shock.

Emma followed as Gold uttered something else, shrugged and then brushed past Regina, leaving her to stand alone in the middle of the sidewalk. Regina’s hands were in tight fists as she remained rooted to the spot, and the tenseness in her posture, as well as the entire scene Emma had just witnessed, caused the blonde to remain in the confines of her car. It wasn’t long after that Regina slipped a key in the lock and stepped inside the shop, leaving a terribly confused Emma to stare at the now closed door.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

It was frustrating how nothing seemed out of the ordinary as the day progressed. Emma kept eyeing Regina, trying to catch even a smallest hint indicating that something was wrong, so that she could swoop in and inquire about it. But there was nothing. Not a thing was different in the way Regina acted; she was maybe a tad quieter than usual, but not enough that Emma could question her about it.

Truly, it wasn’t until the clock hit 2pm, and the shop was quiet and avoid of customers, that Regina finally looked up from her laptop and spoke.

"Emma? There’s something we need to…talk about," she began, picking at her nail in a way that could only be described as nervous fiddling.

It was, perhaps, because of the utterly uncharacteristic way Regina carried herself, as well as the strange scene she had witnessed earlier, that Emma was suddenly filled with apprehension. Whatever Regina was going to say, Emma had a nagging feeling that things were bound to change, and she needed to do something before things altered indefinitely.

"Before you say anything, I have something for you," Emma blurted and shot out of the chair she’d been occupying. Before Regina could offer anything in reply, she had disappeared to the back room. Emerging a while later with an A5-sized envelope, Emma handed it to Regina, heart beating a little faster.

"What is this?" Regina frowned, holding the envelope as if there was a bomb inside.

"Just open it." Emma shrugged, nervously watching as Regina gingerly turned the item in her hands.

Ripping it open, Regina slid out a photograph, the frown on her face becoming even more prominent. Emma could see the moment it all finally registered with the other woman, Regina’s hand flying to her mouth as she inspected the gentle eyes peering up at her.

"It’s your father, as you probably figured."

"How…?" Regina swallowed, unable to voice the rest of her question.

"I was going through some old boxes at the back, and that slipped out from between one of the folders," Emma explained. "I, um, wanted you to have it." Awkwardly scratching the back of her head, Emma followed as Regina cradled the photo in her hands, a small, watery smile grazing her lips.

"Thank you." It was just two words, but Emma heard the clear message of gratitude in Regina’s voice.

"You’re welcome. I, uh, wasn’t sure if you had any photos of him, so…"

"I don’t," Regina admitted, her fingers reverently tracing the lines of Henry Sr.’s face.

After a moment, Emma continued: "I actually thought that maybe we could hang it on the wall behind the counter? That way he would still be present in the shop."

With trembling hands, Regina placed the photograph on the table and buried her head in her hands. Of all the ways Regina could’ve reacted to her suggestion, this was most definitely the least plausible one Emma could've imagined.

"Or not. We don’t have to do that," Emma backtracked, flustered by the utter strangeness of the situation. 

Taking a few, uncertain steps towards the other woman, Emma kneeled in front of Regina, placing an uncertain hand on her knee. Slowly, Regina lifted her head, her eyes bleary and watery.

"I’m selling the shop," Regina whispered, but she might just as well have shouted it, because Emma felt the words like a slap across her face.

Clambering back, Emma staggered to her feet in utter disbelieve. "You _what_?"

"I’m selling the shop," Regina repeated, not quite looking at the blonde.

"I…I don’t understand." She felt nothing but utter bewilderment. "Why?"

Regina cleared her throat and finally rose from her seat, smoothing down the front of her skirt. "Because I received an offer I simply can’t refuse."

Emma looked up sharply at that, a growing realization gnawing at the back of her mind. "And who made the offer if I might ask?"

Regina looked at her squarely in the eye then. "Gold."

"Fucking knew it," Emma spat out, her face contorting in a grimace. "Is he threatening you with something?"

"Excuse me?"

"I don’t understand why, all of a sudden, you’re so willing to let go of the shop." Emma crossed her arms before her, suspiciously eyeing Regina whose impassiveness didn’t falter. "Our revenue is growing by the day, there’s no reason to sell!"

"That’s precisely it; we’re profitable. I simply came to the conclusion that selling would be the best move at this point, before the sales drop."

"And you just decided all of this without me?"

"Yes, because it doesn’t affect you."

"It doesn’t _affect_ me? Are you fucking joking right now?" Emma turned around in frustration, her hands curling in tight fists, nails digging into the skin of her palms as she tried to control herself.

"It does not." Regina’s voice wavered just a little. "You can continue working here; nothing has to change in that respect." Emma whirled around on her heels.

"Regina, everything will change. You’re a fool if you don’t realize that!"

Pure fury coursing through her veins, Emma angrily grabbed an empty cardboard box left on the floor after shelving a recent book order and stormed into the back room. She was beyond mad; at Regina for not coming to her first, at Gold for being a sleazy motherfucker, and at herself for being utterly useless and unable to do anything about it.

She heard the clicking of Regina’s heels as the other woman followed her.

"Emma, don’t be an idiot."

In a fit of indignation, Emma threw the empty box against the wall and turned to Regina, eyes blazing. She didn’t really care how obvious or desperate she sounded; she’d long ago come to associate the shop with Regina, and without one, there was no other. It was _their_ bookshop, regardless of how the relationship status between them was defined.

"You sell the shop, I quit."

"But that’s what I was trying to explain; you don’t have to do that. I can negotiate with Gold that-,

"You don’t get it, I don’t want to run the shop if you’re not there!"

That shut Regina up, her mouth hanging slightly ajar at the sudden outburst.

Emma strode to stand in front of the other woman, her tone even and firm as she voiced exactly what she thought of Regina’s little business move: "This bookshop is _ours_, Regina. We made it into the success it is today, and I’m damn proud of it. But as you might’ve guessed by now, I care way more about you than I care about the shop. If the shop doesn’t come with you included, well, I’m not interested."

"Emma." Regina shook her head, as if afraid of what the blonde might say next.

A lock of dark hair fell on Regina’s face, and Emma was suddenly transported to one of the first times they’d met. It was the moment all those months ago when, intrigued, she’d observed Regina through the shop window, trying to find the courage to step in and apologize for being an utter pain in the ass. Her anger dissipated, leaving only sadness in its place.

Emma swallowed, trying to collect her scrambled thoughts, because Regina was right there, suddenly looking at her with such emotion that Emma almost forgot how to breathe. Just like before, her entire being hummed with the nearness of the other woman.

"So, you see, it’s not just about the shop," Emma whispered. "And if I’m being honest with myself, it never really has been."

Emma looked on, transfixed, at the lock of hair still framing Regina’s face, and, suddenly, her hand was there, gently pushing it back behind the other woman’s ear. Her fingers slightly grazed the soft skin under her fingertips, earning a small gasp from Regina as her hand made its way down the column of the brunette’s neck. Regina’s lips parted, her rose-colored cheeks darkening a notch at the intimate gesture. 

It was so easy for Emma to lose herself in the eyes in front of her. And the way Regina’s pupils darkened when Emma’s eyes dropped down to her lips and then back again, told Emma everything she needed to know. She could feel the brunette’s heart beating under her hand where it still rested on Regina’s neck.

Perhaps surprisingly, it was Regina who leaned forward first, her fingers firmly curving around Emma’s arm and keeping the hand firmly on her chest. And as Emma felt lush lips against her own, it was everything; everything she could’ve wanted and more, just…_everything_. Regina tasted of apples and cinnamon and just _Regina_, and Emma knew she never wanted to kiss anyone else ever again.

It wasn’t until she felt Regina pull back slightly that she realized, in her euphoria, she hadn’t really kissed the other woman back. Springing into action, Regina’s back hit the wall with a small thump as Emma took control of the moment, kissing her back fervently. Fingers grasped the hem of Emma’s shirt as Regina pulled her closer, her own hand slipping into dark hair, the other one still against the soft skin of Regina’s neck.

God, she’d dreamed about this moment forever; how Regina’s lips would feel like against her own, their bodies intimately molding together. Whatever she had fantasized about, however, it was nothing compared to reality, having Regina right _there_, tangible and real.

The bell above the shop door jingled suddenly, quickly bringing them back to the present and tearing them apart. Chests heaving, they stared at each other for a moment, Emma’s hand still twisted in Regina’s hair, and Regina’s fingertips just barely grazing the fair skin between the hem of Emma’s shirt and the waist band of her jeans.

"Hello?" A customer called from the shop and, with regret, Emma looked away from Regina and cleared her throat.

"Just a minute!" Emma wanted to kill whoever had just wandered in. Why the hell were they always being interrupted?

She quickly straightened her shirt and ran a hand through her hair, though she was certain her cheeks were blazing red and would give everything away. Wiping her lips, she looked back at Regina who was still leaning against the wall. She recognized the slight frigidness in Regina’s posture, the invisible wall slowly creeping back up between them.

"Please, wait," Emma pleaded, not wanting to be shut out again more than anything. "Please."

It took Emma a while to get rid of the man looking for the perfect book for his wife for their anniversary, but as she finally did, she practically slammed the door closed behind him and flipped the ‘Open’ sign the other way around. Hurrying back to Regina, Emma found the other woman peering at a mirror, fixing her smudged lipstick.

Hearing Emma enter, Regina turned around, their eyes meeting again.

"He, uh, he’s gone," Emma said awkwardly, needlessly gesturing towards the shop. "So…"

The silence between them grew as they stared at each other, and Emma felt like she was about to burst when Regina finally spoke up.

"I don’t think that should happen again." She looked squarely at Emma, but her tone was lacking the usual confidence that made Regina Mills nothing short of intimidating.

"Okay?" It was not what Emma wanted to hear, but she’d expected as much, seeing the conflict in Regina’s eyes after they’d been so damn rudely interrupted.

"It’s just…complicated."

"Complicated, right." Emma couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her lips.

"Yes, complicated." Regina took a step forward, the familiar fire gradually returning to her demeanor. "It’s complicated with Henry and…everything."

"How is it complicated with Henry? I’m pretty sure he likes me at least a little, and I sort of adore the kid, so…"

"Just leave it, Emma."

"I don’t want to leave it!" Emma felt her frustration rise again. "In case you didn’t realize it just now, besides Henry, I kind of like you, too!"

Regina glanced away, clearly unable to look at Emma. Taking a few, careful steps forward, Emma slowly reached for Regina’s hand.

"Please, Regina," she pleaded and felt the other woman’s hand tremble in hers before it was quickly pulled away.

"No, Emma. I’m selling the shop. And this?" Regina made a vague gesture between them. "This can’t happen." 

With that, Regina was gone, the only sign she’d ever been there the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air. Sighing, Emma leaned against the wall and, finally, slid down to sit on the floor. The day had _not_ gone the way that she’d planned.

"Fuck."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, the rating of this fic is M...

_\---_

_A snap of a twig somewhere in the woods caused Alissa to stir, her senses suddenly in full alert. The remnants of the fire glowed next to them, casting a dim glow in an otherwise pitch black night. She kept listening, trying to pick up other signs that they were, perhaps, being observed; however, there was nothing but a faint call of an owl in the distance._

_Gradually settling back down on her modest sleeping mat, Alissa suddenly felt a presence behind her. Before she could panic, a hand gently landed on her waist in a gesture which could only be described as intimate._

_"It was just an animal, a deer maybe. Go back to sleep," Remi murmured sleepily, seemingly falling back to sleep almost immediately after._

_An arm wrapped around Alissa, quite on its own accord, it seemed. She took a deep breath, reveling in the feeling of utter safety she felt in the other woman’s arms. She hadn’t truly dared to consider it before, hadn’t dared to wish for something more. But, for the first time, she recognized the presence of hope, slowly but surely flowing its way through her._

_What_ if_?_

_\---_

Emma’s phone made a sound, alerting to an incoming text message. She didn’t have to check it to know it was from Ruby who was, most probably, seriously questioning Emma’s life choices. Her best friend had invited her to a party earlier, hosted by their mutual friend Dorothy. In normal circumstances, Emma would’ve jumped at the opportunity, because Dorothy’s parties were downright legendary. But given the way Regina had stormed out of the shop the other day and left Emma in a state of utter dismay, the last thing she wanted was to go to a party and socialize. As always, she’d opted to find solace in a book instead.

Because of her firm refusal to accept the invitation, the sound of the doorbell around 9pm was the last thing she expected. With a frown, Emma put the book down, contemplating whether to open the door or not, but curiosity finally won out. She sure as hell hoped Ruby hadn’t ditched the party in order to hang out with her, because she was not in the mood; she knew she’d just end up spilling her guts about Regina, and she so wasn’t ready for that.

Deep in thought, Emma didn’t check the peephole before yanking the door open, which is probably why she was now standing at the entrance like a deer in the headlights, staring at Regina who was personally responsible for her current foul mood. God, Regina looked so _good_, and Emma wanted to slap herself for staring.

"Regina?" was all she could muster before the brunette practically leaped forward, crashing their lips together. The door slammed shut behind her.

Emma’s brain was much more equipped to deal with this now, and she eagerly kissed Regina back, not caring what had brought on this sudden change in the other woman. Regina’s lips felt so damn wonderful under hers, and Emma knew she was hopelessly addicted.

"I thought this was too complicated," Emma managed to utter between kisses, a small voice at the back of her head still concerned that they would regret this later. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help slipping her hand under Regina’s blouse and shifting slightly so that she could enthusiastically explore the other woman’s neck with her lips.

"It is; this is a one-time thing, it won’t happen again," Regina replied huskily, letting out a small whimper after Emma found a particularly good spot just below her ear. Emma thought she would spontaneously combust at the sound.

"Where’s Henry?" Emma wanted to shut herself up; she really, desperately did.

"Not alone. It’s nice that you worry about Henry, but, please, don’t talk about him when you have your hands under my shirt," Regina managed, tugging Emma’s hair and bringing their mouths back together again.

"Got it."

Maneuvering them through the apartment turned out to be more difficult than Emma anticipated as they refused to let go of each other. Items of clothing were scattered along the way, and Emma was pretty sure her jeans knocked down a lamp. Regina’s hands burned her skin wherever they touched, and when Emma felt Regina bite down on her neck, only to alleviate the small pain with a soothing tongue afterwards, the last bit of self-restraint Emma had died a quick and painless death.

Regina’s lips against her own were absolutely intoxicating, and Emma felt her entire being coming to life. She fleetingly thought what had brought this on; there was a nagging feeling at the back of her mind that the morning would bring regret, that this wasn’t truly what Regina wanted. 

"You’re thinking too much," Regina breathed, taking a step back so that she could actually see Emma.

The other woman’s lipstick was slightly smudged, and Emma was pretty sure some of it was currently decorating her neck and shirt which was still loosely hanging on her arms. She couldn’t care less.

"I can practically hear you," Regina continued, tapping Emma’s temple softly.

"Sorry, I just-,"

"I want this," Regina cut her off. "Stop worrying," she added, slightly impatiently, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in her tone. Emma studied the woman before her, her heart making somersaults as she took in the more or less naked goddess standing in front of her. Running her eyes hungrily over the other woman, Emma noted that she was just as gorgeous as she’d always imagined (because yes, she’d most definitely dreamed of this moment before).

Regina stood there, almost defiantly, but, at the same time, there was a degree of uncertainty in the way she carried herself. And Emma realized she was afraid to be rejected. Right there and then, Emma made a promise to herself that it was a feeling of which she never wanted to be the cause.

"Okay," Emma whispered, giving Regina a sultry look before grabbing her hand.

To say Emma felt alive would’ve been an understatement; in a strange way, she felt like she was supposed to be in that very moment, right there and then. Reattaching their lips, Emma pulled Regina flush against her and practically felt the other woman melt in her arms. Discarding the very few items of clothing that still remained, Emma gently maneuvered Regina towards the bed, and soon she found herself on top of the most beautiful woman she’d ever laid eyes on.

"God, you’re gorgeous," she murmured, capturing Regina’s lips in another searing kiss before making her way down the column of her neck.

Sucking at her pulse point made Regina let out a moan which Emma felt right between her own legs, and she immediately wanted to hear that sound again. God, she wanted to worship the perfection that was Regina, and her lips continued their journey downwards. She took a hardened nipple in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, and Regina’s breath hitched.

"Fuck!" A hand wound itself in Emma’s hair, keeping her in place.

Cupping the other breast with her hand, Emma gave it a squeeze, enjoying the gasp it elicited. Releasing the nipple with one final lick, Emma gave the same attention to the other one, earning another sound of pure euphoria from Regina.

Emma didn’t think she’d ever wanted to make anyone feel as good, as cared for. She ardently explored the smooth skin beneath her hands and lips, getting to know Regina in the most intimate of ways, and as she finally returned to capture soft lips in a sweltering kiss, she had Regina writhing under her. And if Emma had had any doubts about Regina wanting to be there, about Regina wanting _her_, they evaporated the moment she slowly slid her hand up the other woman’s inner thigh and felt how incredibly wet she was.

"Fuck, Regina," Emma murmured against Regina’s lips, her fingers sliding along the wetness and eliciting a pleased sigh from the brunette.

"Emma." Regina’s voice was hoarse, her nails digging into Emma’s back as her hips rose in an attempt to increase the contact. "Please."

It was that one, single word which Emma never thought she’d hear slip past Regina’s lips, that sprung her into action, her fingers effortlessly sliding in, knuckles deep. The moan of pure ecstasy the movement caused was enough to make Emma painfully aware of the need in the apex of her own thighs, her fingers faltering slightly at the pure eroticism of the moment. She repeated the movement and set up a steady rhythm, the palm of her hand hitting Regina’s clit in just the right angle every time and bringing the brunette’s moans higher and higher with each thrust.

With wonder Emma observed the woman beneath her; how Regina arched her head back into the pillow as she spread her legs further to grant Emma a better access; how her mouth hang open, just slightly, her breathing labored; how her hands grasped at the sheets in tight fists. Emma had never, in all her life, seen anything as beautiful, as miraculous. She picked up the pace, sliding in and out and deliciously curling her fingers at just the right moment, causing Regina’s hips to buckle almost violently. 

"Please, don’t stop. Please." Regina’s murmur was close to desperate. Emma felt the other woman thread her fingers through her blonde curls and tug tight.

"I won’t." Emma pressed their foreheads together, her thumb stroking Regina’s clit with ease and bringing the brunette closer and closer to the edge. She could feel Regina’s walls begin to contract around her fingers. "Come for me," Emma coaxed, and that seemed to be all it took, because Regina’s hips flew off the bed, her body going rigid as she climaxed with a downright visceral scream, grabbing on to Emma’s form as if to tether herself. Regina’s body shuddered, and Emma slowed her pace and then halted her movements altogether as the brunette gradually came down from the high.

At that moment, Emma knew she wanted to witness it all again, wanted to be the only one to ever make Regina feel that way, to see her so open and vulnerable. She propped herself up, leaning on both arms and watched as Regina tried to even out he breathing, her cheeks flushed and her heartbeat still beating a mile a minute. Regina slowly opened her eyes and their gazes met, a silent understanding passing between them: their friendship was just effectively transformed for good.

Regina moved her leg, accidentally brushing against Emma, making the blonde shiver as the need between her legs was nearly unbearable. She could see Regina’s eyes dilate at the feeling, and, suddenly, a leg was placed more prominently against her, an elegant eyebrow cocked as if in a challenge.

Holding the eye contact, Emma started to move, slowly at first, against Regina’s thigh, immediately coating it with her own arousal. The friction was just right, and she couldn’t help going faster, unable to keep her eyes open as the orgasm was quickly building inside of her. Pressing her cheek against Regina’s, Emma got closer and closer, until she knew it’d only take a few more moves.

"Fuck, I’m coming," she mumbled, flying off the edge, her entire body shaking. She strained against her trembling arms as she rode out her orgasm and, finally, collapsed on top of Regina when she wasn’t able to hold herself up anymore.

As Emma waited for her pulse to calm down and felt Regina softly stroke her back, the brunette’s hair tickling her nose, she knew no one would ever be able to make her feel like Regina did – and it both thrilled and scared her.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

It was the faint movement somewhere in the room that caused Emma to stir. She slowly opened her eyes and gathered her bearings, finding herself face down on the mattress, the sheets barely covering her from the waist down. Blinking, she realized that the movement she’d sensed was actually Regina pulling on her clothes and trying to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles on her skirt that a night on the floor had caused. It was comical, really, seeing a well-dressed, sophisticated woman, such as Regina, in a backdrop of cardboard boxes and utterly non-existing décor of Emma’s bedroom.

"Where are you going?" Emma questioned, her voice somewhat raspy from the lack of use.

Regina seemed to startle and she swirled around, her shirt only half-way buttoned.

"I need to go get Henry." She peered at a small mirror Emma had propped up against a pile of boxes and ran her hand through her tussled hair.

"Okay." Emma slowly sat up, stretching, and she didn’t miss the hungry way Regina’s eyes raked over her naked body. "Will I see you later?"

"Emma," Regina sighed, turning her gaze away. "I don’t think that’s a good idea. I said it’d be too complicated."

"How is this complicated?" Emma pressed, wrapping the sheet around herself, suddenly acutely aware of her state of undress. "I like you. From all this, I’m drawing the possible conclusion that you, maybe, like me too, at least a little. What is so complicated about that?"

Regina remained quiet for a while, finishing the buttoning of her shirt.

"It’s not a good idea," Regina repeated, her voice was level when she finally spoke. "I said this was a one-time thing, it can’t happen again. In fact, I don’t think we should see each other anymore."

"Regina, what the hell?" Emma scrambled off the bed, dragging the sheet with her, as she made her way to stand in front of the other woman, effectively blocking her from leaving the room. "We’ve seen each other almost daily for the past nine months, and now, suddenly, you tell me we can’t be around each other. What’s going on?"

"Emma, just leave it." Regina’s eyes were pleading. She took a step to get around Emma, but the other woman grabbed her arm.

"After all of this, how can you ask me to do that? I know you’re not telling me everything, and I don’t understand why, because I could help you. We could be in this together, Regina!"

Emma wanted Regina to stay, above everything else, because there was a mounting anxiety within her that if she let her go, she would disappear from her life just as suddenly as she’d appeared in it in the first place. There was an array of emotions dancing across Regina’s face, until only impassivity remained, and Emma knew she’d lost.

"It was obviously a mistake to come over," Regina muttered, jerking her arm free.

The words stung more than Emma wanted to admit, the bitterness of rejection swirling within her as she tried to fight off the all too familiar feeling of not being good enough. She stepped aside, letting Regina pass, and listened as the other woman’s footsteps sounded further and further away, until, finally, the opening and closing of the front door erased them completely. Heart aching in her chest, Emma slid down to the floor and wondered why she still wasn’t able to get a thing right in her life.

**OuaTOuaTOUaT**

Emma didn’t go to Storybrooke the next day, nor the day after that. She wallowed in her misery and only got out of bed to snack and go to the toilet. It felt like the worst breakup Emma had ever had, which was ridiculous, since she and Regina had never actually been in a relationship to begin with. Immersing herself in books had always been Emma’s way of coping, of forgetting, but she knew the situation was bad when even that didn’t interest her.

She might’ve been able to get away with it if it wasn’t for Mary Margaret who’d gone by the bookshop in the middle of the week, only to find it closed. That is how Emma found herself seated on her sofa, Ruby and Mary Margaret staring at her expectedly.

"Déjà vu?" she joked weakly, referring to the last time her two friends had ambushed her in her home, though the humor never quite reached her eyes.

"What the heck happened, Emma? You look like shit." Ruby studied her intently.

"Oh, nothing much. It’s a funny story, really," Emma began sarcastically. "I fell for my boss, she might’ve fallen for me, we shared the most amazing night together, and now she wants nothing to do with me." She raised her hand and glared at Ruby. "And fuck you in advance, because I know you’re concocting a joke about me being so awful in bed that I repel women."

"Ugh, spoilsport." Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Why doesn’t s-," Mary Margaret began, but Emma cut her off.

"No goddamn clue why. She wants to sell the shop to this really sketchy businessman. And there’s something she isn’t telling me, because just a few months ago she absolutely refused to sell," Emma explained, shaking her head. "She refuses to talk to me about it, but I’m sure he has something on her, because there’s no way she’d willingly let go of Storybrooke."

Ruby and Mary Margaret stared at her, eyes wide.

"So, any suggestions on how to proceed?" Emma was met with silence. She leaned back and lowered her head on the back of the couch. "Yeah, didn’t think so."

"You don’t think she’s involved in something…_criminal_, do you?" Mary Margaret nearly whispered, covering her mouth with her hand in shock. In any other circumstances, Emma would’ve cackled at the ridiculous gesture.

"I don’t even know anymore. I’ve gone through all the possible scenarios, and I don’t know what to think."

"What are you going to do?" Ruby asked, patting Emma on the knee in a comforting manner. "About the shop, I mean."

"Well, I sure as hell won’t be working under Gold, that’s for sure. I’ll give my two weeks’ notice the moment Storybrooke is transferred to him."

"Gold?" Ruby frowned.

"I know, right? What kind of a name even is that?" Emma said exasperatedly, throwing her hands in the air. She stared at the ceiling. "I can’t believe I thought my life was actually taking a turn for the better." Her voice was quiet, and she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the pitying looks on her friends’ faces.

The couch dipped as Mary Margaret sat next to her, wrapping her arms around Emma. She felt Ruby take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. Emma leaned her head on Mary Margaret’s shoulder and gratefully took in the silent support of her best friends.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

The first time the phone rang was when Emma was going through her personal papers behind the counter at Storybrooke. She glanced at the device and nearly had an aneurysm when _Regina calling_ flashed on the screen. Not wanting to fall into that rabbit hole again, she promptly declined the call and went back to her papers. The phone rang again a few minutes later, the ID of the caller the same as before. Declining it again, Emma switched on the silent mode, trying hard not to think what Regina could possibly have to say.

Emma dumped the papers worth saving into a box and grabbed another pile to sort through when the screen of her phone lit up again, only, this time, it was a WhatsApp message. She ignored it, proud of her strength of will, but then the screen illuminated again. It was another call, but once it also went unanswered, there was a new text. Suddenly, it was four messages in total, and Emma was about to lose her mind. Contemplating whether to check them or not, she cursed inwardly and finally snatched the device off the table.

_10:06pm  
Emma, pick up._

_10:09pm  
Fine, just read then._

_10:10pm  
I can’t find my black briefcase anywhere and I absolutely need it for tomorrow. Can you check if I’ve left it in the shop?_

_10:12pm  
Can you just check your goddamn messages? If it’s there, can you drop it by the house? Just outside the door is fine, you don’t have to see me._

Emma let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. She still didn’t understand how things had gotten from them nearly kissing on the rooftop to Regina downright refusing to see her after the best night of her life. Giving the shop a cursory glance, she came up empty. It was the back room where she was in luck, spotting the briefcase leaning against a table leg where Regina often left her stuff.

"Goddammit," Emma murmured, realizing that she would actually need to reply something other than “Go to hell!” (In all honesty, she could never have sent that to Regina) Fishing the phone out of her back pocket she opened the conversation.

_10:16pm  
Yep, it’s in the shop. I’ll drop it at your door once I’m done here._

Two blue checkmarks appeared next to the message, but there was no reply. _Typical_.

Grabbing the handle, Emma snatched the briefcase with a little more force than necessary, which, in hindsight, was a mistake. The case flopped open, a cascade of papers falling on the floor around her.

"Fucking great."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Emma groaned and kneeled down on the floor. Regina was going to murder her for messing up her paperwork. Emma didn’t think anything of it, at first, as she desperately tried to collect and stack the papers as neatly as she could, hoping Regina would be able to put them back in the correct order again. It wasn’t until a familiar name jumped off the page, registering somewhere at the back of her mind, that she flipped back a few pages. Emma got a weird feeling she’d read some of the words before.

_Alissa twisted restlessly in her sleep, her mind wondering back to the kingdom she’d left almost a year previously…_

Emma grabbed another page from the floor, reading with growing trepidation.

_Remi took her hand, gently, her eyes sparkling and making it utterly impossible for Alissa to…_

Page after page about the Princess and her quest, about Remi, about kingdoms and princesses, words that Emma now knew for _certain_ she hadn’t read before. There were small, hand-written notes in the margins of some pages.

_I would clarify this a little. […] Excellent paragraph. […] Magnificent._

A bright yellow post-it note among the papers caught her attention, and she slowly turned it around.

_Regina, this is your best work yet! I’m hoping to see the ending before the end of the month, so that we can hit the Christmas market. The series will go out with a bang, excellent work. –Kathryn_

Sinking down on the floor, Emma felt her head spin. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t mean what she thought it did. There was no way it was true, that Regina had a secret identity Emma obviously hadn’t been privy to. But then she came across the obvious title page of the work, and if she’d somehow been able to convince herself otherwise until then, the words she read left little to the imagination regarding the true identity of one A.S. Smith.

Hands shaking, she kept staring at the name typed across the paper.

_Untitled manuscript by A.S. Smith/Regina Mills_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, quite a few of you had already figured out this twist in the plot! Some mystery still remains, though~


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the longer wait, the editing of the last chapters has been more time consuming than I previously thought. But, fear not, I will definitely finish this fic.
> 
> Also, thank you for all the wonderful comments, once again! You're all wonderful.

_\---_

_It was the surprising weight of Remi’s bag which threw Alissa off, the strap accidentally slipping from her grasp. Some of the contents stumbled out, and she let out an annoyed curse. At first, she didn’t even realize what she was seeing, as she was subconsciously so sure of the fact that Remi would never be someone she ought to be wary of. But, alas, the unusual dagger which, in all the haste, had fallen to the ground suddenly caught Alissa’s attention. The world stopped spinning for a second, as she studied the beautiful, cursive letter ‘L’ which had been masterfully engraved on the hilt of the blade._

_It…couldn’t be._

_With trembling fingers, Alissa reached for it, all the while more and more certain that she’d seen a weapon like it before, in the hands of her father’s greatest enemy, King Leopold. She would recognize the crest of the House of Leopold anywhere. Bitterness and dread overtook her heart as Alissa realized how utterly gullible she’d been, believing that gods would, for once, be on her side. Obviously, Remi had been sent to manipulate and capture her, to take her hostage, so that King Leopold could use her as a piece in the ridiculous power game between the two kingdoms._

_Fear and humiliation bubbled within Alissa as she quickly threw the dagger to the ground, collected the few things she owned, and started running to the opposite direction of where Remi had gone hunting a while earlier. She would get as far away from the other woman as she possibly could. She would be nobody’s pawn._

_\---_

By the time Emma had scrambled out of the shop, jumped in her bug and sped to Regina’s house, she’d worked herself in such a frenzy of rage that her hands were shaking. She felt so utterly betrayed and humiliated that it was threatening to swallow her whole. She parked haphazardly, partly on the edge of the sidewalk, and snatched the godforsaken briefcase from the seat next to her before storming towards the front door.

Regina opened after two aggressive knocks, a frown on her face.

"Emma?" Her voice was laced with confusion. "I told you the briefcase can be left at the door."

"You’re such a hypocrite," Emma nearly spat out, eyes blazing.

There was a moment of silence.

"Excuse me?" Regina demanded, sudden anger flashing in her eyes. It significantly dissipated when she spotted the damaged briefcase in Emma’s hand.

"Newsflash," Emma stated sarcastically, thrusting the briefcase into Regina’s hands. "The locking mechanism is faulty, so maybe consider putting less important papers in it."

Regina took an involuntary step forward. "Emma," she began, her voice tinted with something akin to desperation and fear. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but no more words came out.

"I don’t want anything to do with you, Regina." Emma practically felt her blood boil, and the words simply stumbled out, unrehearsed. "I can’t believe I let myself be such a pushover, but, I suppose, I shouldn’t be surprised, since you’ve had the upper hand from the beginning. I honestly thought you were different, that there was something real between us. I’m such a fucking idiot." In utter humiliation, she felt her eyes moisten. "I’ve been through some difficult stuff in my life, but no one’s ever hurt me the way you did, Regina. I hope you’re happy."

"Emma, please let me explain. I-," Regina’s pleading was cut short by Henry who suddenly stumped down the stairs and ran to the blonde, wrapping her arms around her.

"Emma!"

"Hey, buddy." Hastily wiping her eyes, Emma tried to smile reassuringly, but it fell flat. Luckily, Henry didn’t seem to notice.

"Will you stay for dinner?" His hopeful eyes shone up at Emma, and her heart broke for him. "Mom is doing meatballs!"

"Not this time, Henry."

"Oh." His enthusiasm deflated slightly. "Will you come tomorrow? You promised we could start reading the frog and toad book."

Emma chanced a glance at Regina and was met with a begging gaze which she understood immediately: _Please, don’t hurt Henry because of our disagreements_. Emma could never do that to the boy, no matter how much she hated his mother. With a sigh, Emma crouched down to his level, placing her hands on his upper arms.

"Henry, I will probably be away for a little while," she explained, looking at him affectionately.

"Why?" Henry’s shoulders slumped. "Did I do something?" His voice was small, her lower lip nearly trembling.

"Oh, no. You didn’t do anything, Henry." Emma vehemently shook her head, smiling gently at him. This time the smile reached her eyes. "You’re the sweetest boy I’ve ever met. Don’t you ever forget that."

"Why are you going away then?" He asked, confused, and Emma whished for the umpteenth time that day that she hadn’t managed to scatter the contents of the briefcase, and Regina’s secrets along with them, all over the bookshop floor.

"I have some things I need to take care of. But I will definitely read _Frog and Toad Are Friends_ with you soon. I promise." It was a blatant lie, but Emma didn’t know what else to say.

Henry wrapped his arms around Emma’s neck, and she felt the corners of her eyes fill with tears again. Squeezing her eyes shut, she hugged the boy back, knowing that she most probably wasn’t going to do so again anytime soon. Pulling back slightly, she cupped Henry’s cheek and smiled warmly at him.

"I’ll see you around, okay?" Henry gave a nod, and with one, final nod she stood up.

"Regina, I’ll leave the key on the counter." Not daring to look at the other woman again in fear of losing all her resolve, she made her escape and strode back to her car.

Practically diving in, she took a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition. Emma was done with Regina, absolutely fucking _done_. The fact that she was also utterly and stupidly in love with her was just a minor hindrance.

**OuatOuaTOuat**

It was nothing short of bittersweet, walking through Storybrooke and making sure everything was as it should be, one last time. The memories flooded back; how she’d taught Henry to read, how she’d kicked the robber’s ass and nearly given Regina a heart attack in the process. She remembered how Regina had talked her out of the panic attack, how they’d been stargazing, and how they’d kissed in the backroom for the first time. Fixing the chair to fit more nicely around the small table, Emma thought back to all the times Regina had occupied that very chair, laptop in front of her, her fingers elegantly moving on the keyboard. Little had Emma known that she’d probably been writing about Alissa and Remi, about their adventures and quests, right under her nose. And she’d actually fangirled about the books right in front of Regina! So embarrassing.

Somehow, all the memories seemed tainted now.

Running her fingers along the spines of the books, as Emma had done countless of times before, they suddenly faltered when she realized the titles under her fingertips. With a shaky hand, she pulled _Swear not by the Moon_ off the shelf, suddenly seeing it with completely different eyes. Emma couldn’t believe someone as closed off from the world, as mysterious and uptight as Regina, had written the books. God, she felt like such a fool! Exasperatedly pushing the book back onto the shelf, she felt the annoyance raise its head again. 

_Such a goddamn waste!_

Storybrooke had been a dream come true, something Emma couldn’t have imagined to come across in her wildest fantasies. For once, she had felt at peace, had felt she was doing something she truly felt passionate about. And now, it was all taken away from her due to what seemed like the most unjust series of events. Maybe Ruby had, after all, been right all those months ago; this had been a ridiculous endeavor from the get-go, and it was simply time to face the music.

Gingerly removing the key from her keychain, Emma placed it on the counter next to all the paperwork needed to keep the shop going. Taking one, last look around the space, she stepped out into the brisk November air and closed the door behind her.

She was going to be fine, that’s what Emma kept telling herself as she wrapped the scarf more tightly around her neck and slipped on a pair of gloves. She would bounce back, that’s what she always did. The fact that, this time, it felt like her heart was in a million pieces, was beside the point.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

The knock on the door was quiet, almost hesitant, at first. For a moment, Emma pondered whether to bother answering it at all, because she had a pretty good idea who was on the other side. But, in the end, something compelled her to turn the knob. She came face to face with Regina, who looked like she hadn’t slept a wink in several days.

"Can I help you?" Emma demanded, briefly transported to the moment she’d first met the other woman, when Regina had said the exact same words to her. Emma knew she sounded childish, but she still felt so incredibly betrayed, and Regina winced at the obvious anger in her voice.

"I wanted to give you this," Regina said quietly, handing over a black binder. When Emma didn’t reach for it, Regina’s hand wavered a little before she lowered it to her side again. "I want you to… I mean… Can I come inside, for just a moment?"

Despite the anger still boiling inside of her, the plain desperation in Regina’s voice made Emma finally step aside and indicate for the other woman to step inside. Once the door was closed behind them, Emma crossed her arms and waited. She saw Regina swallow hard, hugging the binder tightly to her chest now, as if using it to ground herself. Emma patiently waited as the seconds ticked by. Then, finally, Regina chanced a look at her.

"I… I come from a family in which we never talked about our feelings; or about anything personal, really," she began, her voice uncharacteristically delicate. "My father left when I was ten, as you know, and my mother, very convincingly, made it seem like she was the victim, like he was the one who destroyed our family. And since I got along with him so well, she thought I was somehow complicit to it."

Regina sighed, staring at her toes for a moment before continuing: "It was only when I was old enough to think for myself when I realized that it was actually my mother who had driven my father to leave. I once found a stack of birthday cards and letters my father had sent me, in my mother’s study. She’d never given them to me. I had always thought that he’d abandoned us, that he didn’t care about me. When I confronted my mother about it, she slapped me across the face and told me to never speak of him again. Over the years, it was just easier to forget about it, to start hating him too, and to think of him as a monster who had abandoned his own family. And I swore to myself that I would never let anyone hurt me like that ever again. Anyway…"

It felt like Regina wasn’t done, so Emma kept mum.

"I was always told by my mother that love is weakness." Regina gave a humorless laugh, and, despite the fury still simmering below the surface, it took Emma everything she had not to go over and draw the other woman into her arms. "What I meant to say by all this is that I don’t…know how to love very well. I don’t know how to trust people. And I wasn’t supposed to… _You_ weren’t supposed to walk into Storybrooke that day. You’re this strange aberration in the plan that I’ve had in place for years. All of a sudden, my plan was in shambles, and I simply didn’t know how to tell you about the books, not when it had all gotten so completely out of hand already. And I truly am…sorry about that. But I didn’t lie to you when it comes to not caring about books. I’m aware it’s an oxymoron of sorts, but, one day, after a particularly awful fight with my mother, I picked up a pen and decided to write about my own life and experiences. Suddenly, I found myself writing a fictitious story that turned into…this." Regina made a haphazard gesture with the binder, and she was now looking directly at Emma.

"The reason I’m here, I just wanted to give you this and go. Can you please take it before I change my mind?" Regina hesitantly offered the folder again which Emma now skeptically accepted.

"What is it?" Emma’s asked quietly, eyeing the blank cover which gave nothing away.

"It’s the last book in the series. Well, the manuscript which you already accidentally stumbled across."

"Regina, you don’t-,"

"I want you to read it," Regina interrupted before Emma had a chance to protest further. "That’s all I ask. We never have to see each other after that," she ground out with obvious difficulty. With a sad sigh, Regina nodded and made her way to the door. She opened it and didn’t turn around, her voice small and hesitant when she added: "For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry." With that, she was gone, leaving an emptiness behind which Emma was sure would smother her.

**OuatOuatOuat**

The binder sat, untouched, on the table for two whole days before Emma had had enough. Every time she saw it, it was practically calling her name, whispering to her to just go ahead and take a peek inside. A peek wouldn’t hurt, would it? So it was with a grumpy huff that she finally grabbed it and slid out a thick stack of papers.

_[Untitled] by A.S. Smith_

It was a strange experience, reading about the characters she knew, but with the peculiar knowledge that the words weren’t written by some faceless person, but by Regina. Though, after a few pages, Emma found herself just as immersed in the words as she’d always been when it came to this particular book series.

Several hours later, she was one third into the manuscript, and a growing suspicion was starting to take hold. First of all, there were some startling similarities beginning to emerge, similarities between the book and real life. Emma felt her heart speed up as she realized the subtext between Alissa and Remi, which she’d picked up on since book one, was seemingly on its way to becoming _very_ maintext. And, not only that, but many details, from the dialogue to some aspects of the plot, seemed overtly familiar. When, about halfway through, Remi took Alissa stargazing, and they nearly kissed, Emma felt the tips of her ears burn with the utter familiarity of what she was reading.

Emma couldn’t lie; she felt pleased that Regina had obviously felt the same way about their many moments together. The more she read, the more she also, on some level, understood why Regina hadn’t divulged her secret earlier. The words on the page (how Alissa was struggling to come to terms with her growing feelings for Remi, and how it was never a good time to tell the bandit she was, indeed, a princess), they resonated with Emma. With every new page, it became clearer and clearer that Regina truly had written about herself, intertwining her own life with that of Alissa.

The sheets of paper were quickly running out as Emma read on, now fully invested in seeing how the story would wrap up, if the bandit would actually get the princess in the end. And then it just ended.

"What the fuck?" Emma exclaimed out loud, flipping back a few pages to see if she’d missed something. She read the last sentence again.

_"Alissa looked at the other woman, the woman who now meant the world to her, and made the most important decision of her life."_

And that was it. Not a word on what that decision was, or what happened to them.

"How the hell does it end?" Emma muttered, eyes darting on the page as if searching for invisible clues. Making sure every page was accounted for, she organized the stack of papers again, but there was nothing. It was as if Regina had intentionally omitted the last ten pages of the manuscript.

In more ways than one, Emma was left in a limbo, and it took her a while to gather her bearings, realizing she’d read well into the night again. Too hyped up on adrenaline, she grabbed her laptop and googled the book series, but, of course, there was no word on how the series would wrap up. Apparently, the manuscript hadn’t been leaked to anyone but her.

What Emma did find, however, was that A.S. Smith had a pretty sizable fan base. It was, actually, quite impressive. Besides the obvious flailing over the fabulous plot points of the books, a lot of the discussion was revolving around the true identity of the author. Intrigued, Emma clicked on a Reddit thread which was dedicated to the different theories on the issue, and, apparently, people had a lot to say about it. Given the time and energy people seemed to dedicate to cracking her secret, it was rather impressive how well Regina had managed to veil her identity. Suddenly, Emma felt slightly lightheaded, realizing that she was in the know.

Utterly exhausted, mentally and physically, Emma lay down on the couch, still clutching the papers and trying to make sense of it all. It was clear that there was only one person who had the answers Emma so desperately needed, and after reading the manuscript, she had to admit she wasn’t _completely_ opposed to seeing that person again.


	14. Chapter 14

_\---_

_"Wait!" A familiar voice carried over to Alissa, and she ran even faster, desperately trying to put distance between them._

_It was useless, however, because Remi was ridiculously agile and stronger than her, and it wasn’t long before she heard steps right behind her and felt delicate fingers wrap around her wrist. They came to a halt, both panting from the exertion, but Alissa refused to turn around and look at the other woman._

_"Alissa, please, let me explain." Remi’s voice was pleading. "I’m not who you think I am."_

_That caused Alissa to turn around, eyes blazing. "Well, that much is abundantly clear! What, you’re going to take me to King Leopold, so that he can have his way with me? So that he can use me as a bargaining chip with my father?"_

_"What?" Remi seemed genuinely baffled. "No, King Leopold is my father. I haven’t seen him in two years, not since I ran away. That’s why I have the dagger which obviously spooked you."_

_There was only sincerity in Remi’s eyes, and, little by little, Alissa’s anger dissipated. King Leopold was her father?_

_\---_

Seeing the utterly astonished looks on the faces of Ruby and Mary Margaret was absolutely worth the small bit of self-humiliation brought on by the story Emma had just told them. They were sitting in Mary Margaret’s living room, sipping freshly made lemonade that was spiked with a little splash of rum, and Emma had just divulged that, apparently, she had fallen in love with the author of her favorite book series.

"No way," Ruby exclaimed finally, breaking the astounded silence. "You’re having us on, aren’t you? Things like that don’t happen in real life."

"Believe me, I know." Emma snorted, shaking her head. "Took me a while to get my head around it too."

"Well, I suppose, it’s not that big of a leap from writing fact to writing fiction." Mary Margaret shrugged. "But you befriending exactly _her_ and nobody else? That’s…" She raised her brow and let out a long, incredulous whistle.

"My life is like a goddamn sitcom." Emma stared at the faint yellow liquid swirling in her glass.

"So, what did you do after reading the manuscript?" Ruby inquired, finally getting at least partly over the utter incredulity of what Emma had told them.

"What do you mean?"

"What did you tell Regina when you returned it?" Mary Margaret elaborated.

"I, uh, haven’t returned it yet." Emma couldn’t quite meet the stares of her friends.

"What?" they both uttered in unison.

"Whose side are you on exactly?" Emma asked defensively. "I just found out the love of my life is secretly a bestselling author, and I’ve been stupid enough to gush over her books in front of her! She didn’t have the decency to tell me even then, so I think I have the right to not go running to her just because she gave me a preview of the last book and showed a little bit of vulnerability."

Silence fell between them, and Emma blinked a few times, going over what she’d just uttered.

"You just heard it yourself, right?" Ruby asked, clearly amused.

"Fuck, I’m a disaster."

"By the sound of it, you both are." Ruby downed the rest of her drink and placed the empty glass on the table.

"I don’t know what to say to her, to be honest," Emma mused. 

"Just ask for the truth," Mary Margaret stated matter-of-factly, immediately re-filling Ruby’s glass, her own cheeks flushed because of the rum. "Given her recent actions, I think she’s ready to spill the beans."

"What if she’s not?"

"Then you close that chapter of your life and move on." Ruby shrugged and accepted the now filled glass of lemonade from Mary Margaret. The ratio of lemonade to rum was beginning to shift towards more rum and less lemonade, but no one seemed to mind.

Emma nursed her drink as the topic gradually changed to the renovations Mary Margaret and David were currently doing in the house. She observed the discussion quietly, all the while, in her mind, attempting to weigh out the positives and negatives of giving Regina another chance.

She didn’t know what to do.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

After tossing and turning all night, the next day it hit Emma that, if nothing else, she owed it to _herself_ to see it through. She ought to give Regina a chance to explain, and, in all honesty, she at least wanted to see her one last time. Pacing her apartment all day, she contemplated on how to proceed, only to find herself driving to Regina’s without an actual plan of any kind.

The streets were pleasantly quiet as she navigated ahead, and it was barely past eleven o’clock when she pulled the car to the curb and practically jumped out, grabbing the manuscript with her. She purposefully strode to Regina’s door, afraid to lose her courage at any moment, but as she rang the doorbell and heard faint footsteps approach, she knew she couldn’t escape anymore.

The door swung open, and Emma found herself breathless as her eyes landed on Regina. If, during the days they’d been apart, Emma had thought she could get over Regina, in this moment, the assumption was proven utterly false. Regina was dressed in her signature pencil skirt and a blouse, and Emma assumed she’d just gotten home.

"Emma?" She must’ve looked somewhat disheveled, because Regina was studying her with concerned eyes.

"Is Henry home?" Emma asked, eyeing behind the other woman.

"No, but the bus should be here soon."

Without waiting for permission, Emma brushed past Regina into the foyer and whirled around when she heard the front door close behind her.

"What does this mean?" She was waving the manuscript in the air like an idiot, but she was too tired and desperate to care. "Is this…I mean, did you…" Emma shoved the binder into Regina’s hands and flailed her arms in frustration. "Is it me?" she finally blurted out.

"What?" Regina’s voice was smaller than Emma had ever heard it.

"Remi. Is she…is she me? This last book, are Alissa and Remi us?" She subconsciously crossed her arms in front of her, as if protecting herself from whatever Regina might say next.

There was an unreadable expression on Regina’s face, and Emma felt like fidgeting under her piercing gaze. But she refused to budge and break the eye contact, refused to back down, because she needed an honest answer from the woman who had unknowingly put the pieces of her shattered life back together again.

"Yes."

Emma let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, feeling slightly light-headed. She hadn’t really planned this further than her grand entrance.

"Oh." She felt her cheeks color, uncrossing her arms and stuffing them in her jeans pockets instead. "Cool."

"Eloquent as ever." Regina dared a halfhearted jab, chancing a glance at the blonde. 

"You should’ve just told me."

"I know."

"I mean, you let me go on and on about those books and how much they mean to me. I’ve never felt so betrayed by anyone, Regina."

Regina looked away, embarrassed. It was strange to see the other woman so…demure.

"I couldn’t tell you, at the time. I just…didn’t have the words."

"I get that." Emma took a tentative step forward. "I just thought that after everything that’s happened during these past few months, you would’ve felt comfortable enough to share at least some of that with me. I’m just disappointed, that’s all."

"I understand." Regina sounded defeated, as if she was waiting for Emma to deal the final blow and disappear forever.

"Like I said, I felt betrayed. But, Jesus, the truth is that I think those books also saved me, somehow." Emma’s voice cracked slightly, much to her chagrin. "Apparently, _you_ saved me." She shrugged.

Regina’s cheeks colored. Maybe to distract herself, she turned to place the binder on the nearby table and didn’t turn back around before Emma broke the silence again.

"How does it end?" The blonde asked quietly, referring to the clearly unfinished manuscript.

Regina still hadn’t really looked at her, her demeanor timid and arms wrapped around her upper torso. "I don’t know. That’s up to you." 

Emma regarded her, even the remainders of her previous anger dissipating, only to be replaced by such affection that Emma suddenly felt her heart beat wildly in her chest.

"How would you _like_ it to end?" Emma’s tone was hopeful, and at that, Regina finally raised her eyes, the look in them nothing short of vulnerable.

"Like I told you, I’m not very good at this."

Emma took a hesitant step towards Regina, as if not to scare her. "What with the manuscript and your wholesome speech at my place, I think you’re doing pretty great so far."

Sighing, Regina closed her eyes and lowered her head, clearly having an internal battle with herself. Taking another two steps forward and coming to stand in front of her, Emma slowly placed her finger under Regina’s jaw and urged her to look up. Conflicted brown eyes focused on hers, and Emma gave a sympathetic smile.

"Please, let me in," Emma spoke softly. "I would really want to know how you’d like the book to end."

Regina swallowed, an internal battle clearly waging within her. Finally, she took a deep breath.

"Besides the obvious ones, I’ve never told anyone I’m the author of those books, why I’m writing them, or anything about my life, really," Regina spoke fast, as if afraid of losing the courage.

"And what does that mean?" Emma asked gently. It was like pulling teeth, but she knew it needed to be handled delicately; she wanted the pace to be one set by Regina.

"It means…" Another sigh. “It means that I would, perhaps, very much like to entertain the idea of the princess and the bandit ending up together.”

Smiling brightly, Emma cupped the side of Regina’s face and saw the doubt dissipate just a notch. "I was kind of hoping you would say that."

Regina cleared her throat, as if to gather courage to say something. "What is this, though?" she inquired finally, gesturing between them. "What are we doing?"

"What are we doing?" Emma gave a small chuckle. She took a deep breath, because what she was about to utter would, inevitably, change the name of the game. But she was done hiding. "Regina, I’m in love with you." Emma Swan had never been so sure of anything in her life.

Regina stared at her, blinking, an even stronger hue of red gradually tinting her cheeks.

"Emma." It was whispered almost reverently.

"It’s all right. I’m not expecting you to say it back; I just wanted you to know exactly where I stand." Emma tenderly took Regina’s hand in her own. "The bottom line is, I want this," she echoed Regina’s words from the previous week.

It was as if Regina’s resolve broke right there and then, and she surged forward, their lips meeting in a heated kiss. It was just as divine as Emma had remembered, what she had yarned for ever since the last time they’d been close like this. She felt Regina’s hand slide up her neck and into her hair, making her hold on to the brunette even tighter. They stood like that for a while, embracing each other, simply content to be in their own little bubble.

The sound of a school bus coming to a halt outside finally made them part, their chests heaving and Regina’s lipstick, once again, smudged adorably. Regina hurriedly wiped the worst of it away while Emma tried smoothing down her shirt which had mysteriously slipped from the waistband of her jeans. The door swung open, and a wide-eyed Henry stood in the doorway as his eyes landed on the scene before him.

"Emma!" he practically squealed, dropping his back bag and throwing himself at her. Emma happily scooped him up and gave him a squeeze.

"Hey, buddy." Emma grinned at Regina over Henry’s shoulder, the other woman observing them with a faint smile grazing her lips.

"Are you still mad at mom?" he asked, his voice serious.

"What?" Emma frowned, taken aback by the astute notion of the boy.

"You said you weren’t mad at me, so you must’ve been mad at mom," he explained, eyes serious.

"We talked, and everything is okay. I’m not mad at you mom, Henry." Emma said, looking at him with conviction.

"Good!" He wiggled himself down from Emma’s hold and sprinted upstairs and towards his room. "Mom is nicer when you’re around," he stated before disappearing around the corner and leaving the two women alone once more.

"Nicer, huh?" Emma smirked, closing the distance between them and pulling Regina closer. "Does Miss Swan make you happy, Miss Mills?"

"You’re impossible." Regina shook her head, but didn’t resist as Emma pressed against her.

Emma managed to steal a kiss until a timer went off in the kitchen and Regina slipped out of her hold. She followed the other woman and leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, observing Regina checking various pans on the stove.

"Do you want to stay for lunch?" Regina asked, shooting an uncertain glance over her shoulder before turning to stir the contents of one pan. "I’m sure Henry would love it." Emma raised her brow meaningfully. "And maybe I would, too," Regina added, shaking her head, amused. "Also, I think there are still things we need to talk about."

"I would love that."

Amazingly, it felt like nothing much had changed; Emma ended up having lunch with Regina and Henry and, eventually, spent the entire day with the pair. In the evening, after putting the boy to bed and reading to him, she adjourned to the study with Regina. All through the day, Emma had been included in a way that was wonderfully familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

A spring in her step, Emma made her way to the study and found Regina pacing the room, clearly anxious. She fixed crooked pictures on the wall and straightened random books on the shelf. Emma remained quiet, giving Regina the space the obviously needed. It wasn’t until Regina finally sat next to her on the couch that Emma dared to speak.

"We don’t have to talk about things today if you don’t feel comfortable."

"It’s not that," Regina immediately replied, sighing. "There are things that… I just…I don’t want you to think less of me," she confessed, staring at the far wall, her face void of emotion.

Emma had long ago learned to interpret it as a defense mechanism, which is why she dared to place her hand on top of Regina’s which lay on the couch between them. Regina’s head whipped to the side, as if the gentle touch brought her mind back from a mile away. With an encouraging smile, Emma gave the hand beneath hers a squeeze.

"How did you get _Swear not by the Moon_ published?"

Regina glanced at their hands, uncertainty clearly written on her face. But as Emma sought out her gaze, wordlessly communicating her utmost trust in the other woman, the uneasiness slightly abated.

Regina cleared her throat.

"There are…two things you need to know," she began, her voice wavering. "First, the books. I sat on the first manuscript for months, almost feeding it through a shredder on several occasions. But, during a particularly weak moment, I ended up sending it to several publishers, one of which was Gold Publishing." Regina raised her eyebrow meaningfully, the mention of Gold making Emma’s blood boil already. "I ended up signing with Kathryn, in the end, and Gold didn’t like that. Conveniently, he knows my mother, and, on several occasions, he’s had me do his bidding, because he knows I don’t want anyone, including my mother, to know about my nom de plume."

"Why does it matter?" Emma asked, despite herself, because she didn’t want to interrupt Regina.

"It would ruin my credibility as a journalist if they knew I write cheesy, fantasy romance novels." Regina gave a humorless laugh. "Believe me, just being a woman is sometimes hard enough when it comes to this field."

"You, if anyone, could do it."

"You give me far more credit than I deserve." Regina shook her head and sighed.

"And Storybrooke?" Emma inquired carefully.

"Well, that’s the second thing you need to know." Regina exhaled. When she raised her head again, the look on her face was that of determination. "I graduated at the top of my class from Columbia, but at the time, there was fierce competition, and it wasn’t so clear-cut that I would land a proper position anywhere. So I ended up making the biggest mistake of my life, one that I regret to this day."

"Gold?" Emma suggested, the bitterness flashing in Regina’s eyes suggesting she was right.

"I mentioned the predicament to my mother who, in all her grand wisdom, introduced me to Gold. You probably won’t understand, but I wanted to get an internship at the New York Times so bad that I was willing to do anything. An internship there guarantees a career." Regina closed her eyes, shame emanating from her in waves, but she kept going: "So I took Gold’s offer; he somehow made all the other suitable candidates disappear, basically giving me the internship on a platter. And I was then indebted to him, owning him a favor whenever he would want to cash in on it. I signed a contract and everything, which, in hindsight, was the most idiotic thing I could’ve done. In it I admitted that he had absolutely nothing to do with my NYT internship."

"Isn’t that kind of on the nose, such a contract?"

"He knows I would suffer more if things were made public."

"And now he wants the shop?"

"Gold approached me and demanded I sell the shop if I wanted to keep my end of the bargain – and my anonymity. And because of the deal, and because I was weak, I decided to take up on his offer and, ultimately, betray you in the process. And to show you just how unbelievably brave I am, I didn’t have the courage to tell you even then." She scoffed, unable to quite look at Emma.

"You can’t let him win."

"I don’t have a choice."

"Why does he want Storybrooke anyway?"

"Apart from being petty and wanting to take the success away from me, I’m guessing he aspires to improve his reputation as a corner shop killer." Regina shrugged. "His chain is known for driving small shops out of business, so what a better way to promote a different view than to buy a popular business and keep it as it is. Storybrooke would remain the same; it would only be in his name."

"That’s ridiculous," Emma huffed, absolutely infuriated at the cold and calculated manner Gold was handling his businesses.

"He’s always been a couple of steps in front of me, always lurking in the shadows and reminding me that I owe him."

"You deserve to live your life as you please," Emma said softly, earning another incredulous scoff from Regina. "I mean it. He’s forced you to live your life in a certain way for years. That’s not right!"

"Maybe not, but I’ve gotten used to it. To be honest, sometimes it’s just easier to pretend to be someone I’m not."

“_We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be_,” Emma quoted, earning an incredulous look from Regina. "Kurt Vonnegut," she offered as an explanation and shrugged. "I’m totally making you read a few books, by the way."

Regina rolled her eyes benevolently, a small smile tugging the corner of her mouth. There was a silence between them, both mulling over what Regina had just confessed to. Finally, their gazes met, and Emma raised their still linked hands to her lips, placing a soft kiss on Regina’s nuckles.

"How long do we have, with the shop?"

"Until the end of the month."

"We’ll figure something out," Emma murmured confidently, earning a small nod from the other woman.

With a sigh, Emma swore to herself that she would solve this. The feeling only deepened when she felt Regina carefully lean her head on her shoulder, the trust in the gesture almost tangible.

Determination bubbled up within her; Emma was going to figure this out if it was the last thing she did.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

It was several hours later when Emma made her way through the foyer, snatching her coat off the rack, and turned to Regina in order to say goodbye. They’d talked about everything and nothing, once again at ease in each other’s company. Emma didn’t really want the evening to end, and as she gazed in Regina’s eyes, she saw the same feeling reflected back at her.

"I’m glad I came by today," Emma confessed, fiddling with the leather of her coat.

"Me too."

They stared at each other, both seemingly unable to move.

"It’s pretty late to drive. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to," Regina eventually murmured. "There’s a guest room upstairs," she added, rather unnecessarily, since they both knew Emma would definitely not be spending the night in the guest room, should she take up on the offer.

"Yeah? Are you sure?"

Regina gave a small nod.

They stared at each other for a moment, as if waiting to determine who the weakest link was. Emma truly couldn’t have answered who stepped forward first, but she suddenly had Regina in her arms again, lips locked in a desperate kiss. Emma’s coat hit the floor with a thud.

They stumbled up the stairs, Emma pinning Regina to the wall halfway through and managing not to drop any photos off the wall. Reaching the upstairs landing, their kiss broke, and Emma felt Regina take her hand, pulling her quietly towards a door further down the hallway. Regina fumbled with the door knob as Emma’s hands slipped underneath her blouse, but, finally, the door swung open, and Emma followed Regina in.

"What about Henry?" Emma whispered and heard the door lock with a small click.

"He’s a heavy sleeper."

Satisfied with the answer, Emma whirled Regina around and reattached their lips, their tongues soon sliding hotly against each other. Regina’s fingers grazed the skin just above the waistband of Emma’s jeans, eliciting goosebumps at their wake, until coming to a complete stop on her hip. The kiss slowed down, and Emma pulled back slightly, peering into vulnerable eyes.

"Is everything okay?" She gave the other woman’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

"I don’t usually do this," Regina stated, her hand still grasping the lapel of Emma’s shirt. "I mean. I don’t… There’s always Henry to consider and… This is…different."

"Neither do I." Emma slid her hand to rest on Regina’s chest, just below her collarbone, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath her fingers. "I don’t do feelings," she confessed. "And yet, here you are," she murmured, lost in her own thoughts for a moment. "Do you want to stop? We don’t have to go any further, we can just sleep," she added as an afterthought, wanting to give Regina a way out.

Regina glanced down at Emma’s hand and then back up again. "No," she breathed and leaned forward, capturing Emma’s lips in another heated kiss.

Emma loved the way Regina’s lips felt under hers, how soft and addicting they were. She licked along Regina’s bottom lip, asking for permission to enter which the other woman immediately granted. Emma slowly worked the buttons of Regina’s blouse and slid it off her shoulders, following every new inch of skin being revealed with her lips and splaying her hands on the smooth stomach. Regina’s hand wound up in her hair, keeping Emma in place as she found a particularly wonderful spot. Regina’s blouse fell onto the floor, and Emma grasped the zipper of Regina’s skirt, but it wouldn’t budge. Frustrated, Emma lifted her lips off of Regina’s neck, attention focused on the skirt.

"Have you done this before?" Regina asked a tad mockingly, but her eyes were sparkling in a way that Emma could not take offense.

"Shut up." She tugged the zipper with more force, and it finally gave.

Turning her hungry eyes back to the brunette, the mirth in Regina’s pose turned into something completely different as Emma purposefully pushed the skirt over her hips. It hit the floor, leaving Regina in nothing but her underwear. They stumbled towards the bed, their lips once again attached, discarding the rest of their clothing as they went. 

It was softer and gentler, this time, less hurried. In Emma’s apartment, it’d been almost frantic at times, but now there was a silent, yet mutual, understanding that they had all the time in the world, that neither of them wanted this to be a one-time thing. 

Similarly to the first time, Emma found herself on top, and she fleetingly pondered that she liked discovering that Regina had no problem with it. She slid her hand upwards, cupping Regina’s full breast and eliciting a soft gasp from the other woman. A nipple instantly hardened under her palm. Emma wanted to discover Regina’s body again, wanted to know what made her moan and writhe. She mapped Regina’s body with her lips and hands, exploring the smooth skin and wonderful curves, making the brunette arch to her touch. 

Leaning on her elbow, Emma observed the perfection before her and ran her thumb over Regina’s lips, transfixed. Regina’s breathing was labored, her pupils dilated, when she eventually opened her eyes and their gazes met.

"What do you want, darling?" Emma asked, partly surprising herself by how easily the term of endearment slipped past her lips. Her hand slid downwards again, fingers grazing a pert nipple. Moving further down, she softly stroked between Regina’s legs and felt that she was soaking wet. Emma squeezed her eyes shut at the feel of it.

Regina shuddered, her cheeks coloring at the question. "I don’t…" She swallowed, her hips chasing Emma’s hand in vain. "Anything." 

Emma peppered kisses along Regina’s jaw, finding that wonderfully sensitive spot just below the other woman’s ear which always made her gasp, before whispering again: "What do you want, Regina?"

Regina’s nails dug into Emma’s back, her breathing uneven. "Mouth. I want your mouth," she finally breathed out in desperation.

Emma captured Regina’s lips in another heated kiss before making her way down her body in a torturously slow pace. She couldn’t deny that she’d fantasized about this, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the moment when she settled between Regina’s legs and took in the scene before her. Regina had her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes squeezed shut and chest raising with erratic breaths. Her legs opened for Emma, welcoming and without hesitation, and Emma felt her own arousal almost painfully at the apex of her thighs as she took in the most erotic sight she’d ever seen. She wanted nothing more than to make Regina feel good, to make her feel what Emma felt every time she as much as looked at her.

Not wanting to tease any longer, Emma took a hold of Regina’s hips, lowered her mouth and tasted her. The moan it elicited from the brunette was nearly obscene, and Emma immediately knew she wanted to hear it again. Regina’s legs spread wider apart, willing to give Emma a better access. She followed Regina’s reactions, letting herself be guided by them as she pleasured the woman beneath her. Wrapping her lips around a swollen clit and sucking it nearly did Regina in, the woman’s hips bucking against Emma’s hold, and a series of expletives slipping past her lips. Judging by the erratic movements of Regina’s hips, she was close.

"Emma," Regina managed to ground out, her cheeks flushed and her breath catching in her throat every time Emma hit a particularly sweet spot. "Please." It was nearly a sob.

Regina’s voice, the words uttered like a prayer, nearly drove Emma insane. She licked and sucked until she felt Regina begin to tremble, and the next thing she knew, Regina’s hips flew off the bed, the orgasm washing over her as Emma continued her ministrations. It was without a doubt, the most beautiful thing Emma had ever had the privilege to witness.

She crawled up the bed, leaving small kisses here and there, until cupping Regina’s cheek gently, her thumb softly stroking the soft skin. Regina’s eyes were unfocused, her chest still heaving, and she wrapped her fingers around Emma’s wrist as if to ground herself.

"You’re so gorgeous," Emma murmured.

Regina pulled the other woman to her, their lips meeting in a languid kiss, and before Emma knew what was happening, she found herself on her back, Regina’s hungry eyes peering down at her.

Regina’s hand slid down Emma’s body, and Emma was almost embarrassed about how wet she was as Regina’s fingers dipped into the heat between her legs.

"Fuck," she gasped, and Regina’s brow lifted meaningfully. "Oh, you’d, uh…be in the same condition if you’d just witnessed what I did," Emma ground out, seeing Regina’s cheeks color imperceptibly before their mouths crashed together again and Emma was no longer capable of intelligent thought processes.

Regina’s fingers felt so fucking good, and as they slipped effortlessly inside, a thumb brushing against her clit, Emma was sure she was going to perish altogether. Regina lowered her head, taking a hard nipple in her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, and Emma couldn’t help the loud moan that escaped her lips. In any other circumstances, she would’ve been ashamed of how ridiculously needy she sounded, but she was so well beyond caring at this point. 

The fingers inside suddenly curved _just_ right, hitting that one, perfect spot, and Emma’s hips buckled quite on their own accord. She could feel the orgasm building inside of her, which Regina must’ve sensed as well, since she picked up the pace and sought out the same spot again. Regina’s thumb was on Emma’s clit now, stroking with every push, and it was all just too much. Her legs trembled as she came, her screams of pleasure, muffled by her hand, filling the room as Regina continued to stroke between her legs. 

Emma wasn’t sure how long she just lay there, her mouth ajar, trying to catch her breath and get her heartbeat under control. It’d never been quite like this with anyone; she’d never given herself so completely to someone before, had never allowed anyone to get so close. And as she finally opened her eyes, finding Regina watching her with something akin to affection, she knew this was what she’d been waiting for all these years, why no one else had felt quite right before.

Pulling Regina to her, Emma poured everything she felt into the kiss, framing Regina’s face with her hands almost reverently. Pushing the other woman on her back again, Emma peered down at her with playfulness.

"That was a really good effort, but don’t think I’m done with you just yet."

Regina’s eyes were almost black as they travelled along Emma’s body in a way the blonde was sure she could feel as a physical touch. "I was counting on it."

Emma took that as a challenge.

It was in the small hours of the night when Emma wrapped herself around Regina, completely spent. Their legs entwined as she pulled Regina’s soft frame against herself and buried her face in the nape of the other woman’s neck. Emma felt an arm atop of hers, their fingers lacing together under the covers, and she was already nearly asleep when Regina’s small voice sounded in the darkness of the room.

"I’m in love with you, too, Emma."

Emma held on just a little bit tighter.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

Emma had no idea what time it was when she stirred, but the rays of the sun were not yet creeping through the partly open drapes. Blinking, she gradually oriented to her surroundings, until her eyes fell on the figure sprawled beside her and it all came back to her in flash. As she thought back to the events of the last 24 hours, her mouth turned into a wide grin, only for it to morph into a tender smile when she fully took in the woman lying next to her.

Spellbound, the blonde observed as Regina’s chest rose and fell evenly, the look on her face peaceful in a way Emma had never quite witnessed before. It was several minutes later when she eventually raised her hand, hesitating only for a moment, and ran her fingers along Regina’s arm. Regina let out a sigh, her eyes slowly flickering open and, finally, coming to rest on Emma.

"Morning," Emma said quietly, not wanting to break the magic of the moment. 

"Morning," Regina murmured back, and Emma could see a faint smile caressing her lips. 

"Please, don’t disappear on me," she chuckled, taking Regina’s hand in her own and running her thumb across the brunette’s palm.

Regina shook her head and stared at the ceiling.

"I’m sorry, that was such a poor joke."

"It was all a little too much at the time," Regina confessed, glancing at their now entwined hands. "I’m not disappearing, but I do need to wake Henry up soon," she lamented and slowly sat up, extracting her hand from Emma’s. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sighed in a satisfied manner.

"When do you have to leave the house?"

Regina reached for a wrist watch on the nightstand.

"In an hour." Regina turned to look at her. "Why?" Her voice sounded suspicious. 

Emma sat up as well and scooted over, sliding her hands along the smooth skin on Regina’s back and resting them on her hips. "So, an hour, huh?"

"Emma," Regina warned, but, truly, the word lacked any conviction.

"Yes, Regina?" Emma planted a kiss on Regina’s shoulder, only to start making her way up her neck, eliciting a gasp from the other woman.

"Okay, maybe another ten minutes," Regina mumbled, turning her head so that Emma could capture her lips in a searing kiss.

Ten minutes was all Emma needed.

**OuaTOuaTOuaT**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover Art: And the Sunlight Clasps the Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20551136) by [Kayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayryn/pseuds/Kayryn)


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